Shatter
by LaylaBinx
Summary: Sam didn't even see the gun until the bullet had richocheted through his shoulder and slammed him into the pavement. Major Limp/Hurt Sam! Protective/ Big brother Dean! Takes place right after "Sex and Violence" :D
1. Tension Building

**Hello all!! Okay, I've been feeling a little dark lately and if you're like me, you're pretty sad about the recent strain that's been placed on the boys relationship. :( So what was my solution to this little dilemma? Beat the crap outta Sam! Huzzah! Lol, hey I'm a sadist, what can I say?? Hehe, so this story takes place about a week after the last episode and things are still really uncomfortable between the two. Sound fun?? Anyway, I'll be honest, I haven't actually seen any of the fourth season yet because I don't get CW *tear* and everything I know about it has come from the episode synopses and fan fics :D So if there are any problems with my story please feel free to (politely) tell me about them and I'll be sure to change it! Please no flames though becuase that's just mean O.o**

**I own nothing!! If I did, this would actually happen in my world. Hehe, hope you enjoy!!**

* * *

**_How many times can  
I break til I shatter?_**

**_-OAR_**

A crimson sunset had just faded behind the horizon, the sky still dusted pink back behind the line of trees that stretched along the side of the road. The evening air was cool and clear, the smell of pine drifting through the breeze. In spite of the dull lyrics of Led Zeppelin's _Bring It On Home_ playing through the speakers, an uncomfortable silence had fallen inside the Impala.

Sam shifted slightly, glancing back down at the manila folder resting across his lap for about the 60th time that hour. He flipped it open again, his eyes scanning across the news story he'd already almost memorized. It was their first case since the incident with the siren a little over a week ago and things had only gotten more tense between them. Dean said everything was fine, he said_ they_ were fine, but Sam knew that wasn't true. They hadn't been "fine" in a long time. Sam had gotten uncomfortably used to the distance that had grown between them after Dean's return from Hell. Sure, Dean was back with a pulse and a core temperature and all the other spiffy things that go along with being alive, but that didn't mean he was the same smart-mouthed, protective big brother Sam had grown up with. He knew that those four months had changed him, made him a completely different person, but Sam was okay with that. He didn't expect things to go back to the way they were. Not ever.

"How much farther do you think?" Sam asked, willing to try just about anything to break the silence. It was almost deafening and was very close to driving him insane.

For a long minute, Dean didn't respond; in fact he barely even acknowledged that his brother had spoken. Finally, he shrugged slightly, never taking his eyes off the road. "Few more miles." He replied hollowly, his voice sounding flat and lifeless as he spoke.

Sam nodded slowly and sank back into the seat, looking out the window once more. No, they weren't fine. It was obvious in the way Dean had barely spoken to him in almost an entire week, his sentences short and clipped anytime he did say something. It was obvious in the way he would sometimes glance at Sam with a hurt look flashing briefly across his green eyes, the "how could you" look of ultimate betrayal.

Sam desperately wished he could take back the things he'd said, he wished he could somehow reverse the tables and it had been Dean saying such awful things to him. Sam could handle that, he knew he could, but not Dean. When those words had left his mouth, when they had crossed that point of no return and everything they'd tried to salvage over the past year was shattered, Dean's heart nearly broke in half. And what was worse was that he believed every words of it.

Sam shook his head slightly, squeezing his eyes closed against the memory. He had apologized so many times that first night the words "I'm sorry" and "I didn't mean it" had become almost like a mantra. But it was true; the awful things he'd said couldn't have been any further from the truth. Sam had idolized his older brother for longer than he could remember, following him blindly without any question whatsoever. Dean had practically raised Sam, he'd trained him, protected him, he even went to Hell for him. How could he ever possibly believe Sam meant the things he'd said while under the siren's spell?

It didn't matter though; the last remaining ounce of trust Dean had in his brother had been shredded that night and now there was no turning back. It was bad enough that Sam had been sneaking around with Ruby and using his powers, but this was something that couldn't be repaired with a simple apology or a promise not to do it again. The bond they'd both relied on so heavily throughout their lives was beginning to crumble and there was nothing they could do about it.

Dean flipped on the blinker and pulled across to the exit ramp. A thin stretch of well lighted buildings lined the road off to the left: a motel 8, a gas station, a small diner, and another building that was more than likely a bar tucked off in the distance. The Impala bounced across the large potholes that cut into the driveway of the motel and came to a stop in front of the front office.

Sam unbuckled his seatbelt, not needing an invitation to the get out of the car for a minute. He dug through his wallet and pulled out a fake credit card, glancing across the numbers briefly. They hadn't used this one in a while. "So, single bed or double?" He asked, forcing a small, watery smile onto his face, hoping it would lighten the mood at least a fraction.

Dean refused to look at him, not even attempting to rise to joke. "Double." He answered, fingers drumming across the steering wheel rhythmically.

The younger man nodded a little, slightly crestfallen but not really expecting the joke to do much of anything else. He closed the door and walked into the front office, paying for the room and signing into the guestbook. Apparently, the motel hadn't quite made it to the new millennium because Sam was handed a brass key with a purple plastic tag reading room 6 attached to it. He took the key, thanked the clerk, and walked back outside. The Impala was gone and for a split second, Sam felt a flash of fear race through him. He left, he left, he left, his mind repeated like a broken record, the air suddenly very thick and hard to breathe. He looked across the nearly empty parking lot, his eyes coming to rest on the familiar shape of the car and he let out a sigh of relief. Keeping the key in his hand, he walked over to the room they'd been assigned, Dean appearing next to him a few seconds later.

"Dude, I thought you left." Sam said, unlocking the door and voicing his anxiety in a small chuckle that sounded fake even to him.

Dean just shrugged and pushed past him into the room, dropping his bag on the ground next to the first bed. He pulled a few things out of his pockets, dropping them onto the table next to the door and taking a look around the room.

"Alright, see ya." He said, turning on his heel as Sam came in behind him, his bag tossed over one shoulder. Sam blinked in confusion, looking at his brother's retreating back and then back at the room.

"Where are you going?" He asked, frowning when Dean shrugged and didn't turn around.

"Don't know. Have fun." He said, cutting around the corner of the building and disappearing into the evening shadows. And just like that, Dean was gone.

Sam stood in the open doorway for a long time, staring out into the dark, empty parking lot. He thought about following him, demanding that the talk about this and get it all over with instead of just letting it continue to build. However, Sam knew that would only make things worse because if Dean hadn't wanted to talk about it the entire week, he sure as hell wasn't going to talk about it now.

The younger man sighed and closed the door, walking back into the room and rummaging through his bag. Dean hadn't even said when or if he was planning on coming back. Sure, all of his clothes were here but his wallet along with the car keys and everything else of material worth were either with him or in the Impala. The only thing he'd be leaving behind that he couldn't replace was Sam and that left a cold, hollow feeling in the younger man's stomach. For a long time now Sam had been wondering whether it would be better for them to split up and search for Lilith separately or not but it seemed that Dean may be making that decision for him.

Sam fell on the stiff mattress on his side of the room and collapsed back, the coarse material of the comforter scraping against his jacket. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, trying not to think about anything in particular but it was impossible. He's going to leave. If not now then soon… Sam thought, tossing his arm over his eyes, the crook of his elbow making the world dark for a split second. I wouldn't blame him…

While under the siren's spell, Sam had told Dean that he was holding him back, that he was the better hunter and that Dean was too weak and stupid to stand up to him. The words were his, as was the voice and the body but they couldn't have been more wrong. In Sam's eyes, Dean was one of the best hunter's he'd ever known and also one of the smartest. He knew more about the things they hunted than Sam would have thought possible and he knew exactly how to destroy them. If anything, it was Sam that was holding him back. Dean had sacrificed everything for his little brother; his freedom, his happiness, even his life and how did Sam repay him? By saying he didn't need him, that he was holding him back. Sam was disgusted with himself.

Sam sat up, pulling the phone out of his back pocket and glancing at the screen. No missed calls, no voice mail, a full battery but that was about it. He'd half expected a call from Ruby somewhere along the way but wasn't sure he would have answered it anyway. Dean didn't trust her, never had and probably never would and to be perfectly honest, Sam wasn't 100% sure he could trust he completely either. But so far she was one of the only leads they had to finding Lilith and if it meant literally preventing all Hell from breaking loose then he would do whatever it would take. With a sigh, he tucked the phone back into his pocket and stared at a rather ugly painting of the surrounding landscape on the wall.

They were right on the outskirts of a small town in Pennsylvania and had a meeting with the town librarian the next morning. The case they were sent to work on appeared to be some kind of ritual murder but considering sulfur was found in the room with the body, the case had drifted through the grapevine to them. It seemed simple enough, some kind of demonic possession or release but you could never be sure with demons. Bobby knew they were in the area and said he would offer some assistance if they needed it but Dean had turned him down, politely explaining that they could handle it. In other words, Dean didn't want to deal with Bobby being the peacemaker and trying to mend the rifts between them.

Sam sighed again and flipped on the television, keeping the volume low enough so that it just barely filled the room. He flipped open the folder again and looked at the few grainy, black and white photographs that had been sent with the news article. The pictures showed a young woman, possibly mid-20s, a deep slash marring her pale throat. She was almost completely nude, clad in nothing but a pair of underwear, strapped to a table in what looked like a basement. Intricate patterns had been carved into her arms, legs, and torso but the picture was too dark to make out any better details. Her name was Leslie Foster.

Sam scrubbed at his eyes; he felt like he'd been looking at the same picture for hours, which ironically, he had. There was something he was missing in this photo; something was odd about the room or Leslie's body, he couldn't tell which. Black and white was terrible for quality anyway, what he needed were the original copies of the crime scene. However, he didn't know his way around the town well enough to do a B&E to the get the police records and also, Dean had the keys. Sam flipped the folder closed once more and set it on the bedside table, turning his attention to the local news. He settled back on the bed and crossed his arms over his chest, knowing Dean probably wouldn't be coming back for a while.

* * *

**So is it okay so far?? Let me know, okay?? Trust me, it picks up in the next chapter I promise!! Hope to see you then!! :D**


	2. Broken Brotherhood

**Hey guys!! Thank you so much for all of your reviews, they're very helpful for me while writing this fic!! Okay, things are starting to pick up in this chapter but there's not going to be any fluffy, brotherly bonding quite yet. Just the opposite actually O.o Poor Sam won't have it easy for a while I'm afraid...Oh well, hope you like it!!**

**P.S. Does Dean still have his necklace?? If not I can remove that part of the story but I wasn't sure :D**

* * *

By 1:17 Dean still wasn't back yet and Sam was beginning to get antsy. It had been a good six hours since his older brother had walked out the door and the minutes seemed to tick by more slowly than ever. Occasionally, someone passing by the door outside would cause Sam to sit up and look to the front door expectantly but no one ever entered, let alone the one person he was hoping to see. The Impala was still outside so Dean couldn't have gone far but it didn't make things any easier knowing he was still somewhere on his own. Sam knew full well that his older brother was more than capable of taking care of himself but years of molding from their father over the whole "don't leave your brother alone" kind of thing had been chiseled into his mind and he found it hard to let go.

Sam sighed and sat up again, his lower back popping as he rolled up. He was tired of watching the four channels they got in the hotel room and even more tired of re-reading the news clipping that had drawn them to this hole in the wall town in the first place. The local news offered nothing new about the Leslie Foster murder, simply saying the police were still searching for a suspect. To be perfectly blunt, they didn't have jack. However, if this was indeed the work of a demon or some other supernatural force, the police were likely looking for the wrong things in the right places. Usually, demons tended to leave at least some kind of clue behind even if they didn't realize it but without proper training, a person could probably step over it at least a dozen times and still not realize it. There was still something that was bothering Sam about this particular case but he still wasn't sure what it was.

A local man, Stephen Laws, had found Leslie's body the next morning on his was to work. The newspaper's clipping said he was the town librarian, usually working in a small, tightly packed office in the back of the library with his arms full of books. He'd been walking down the sidewalk early that morning and happened to notice a small fleck of red on the stairwell leading down to the basement of the building. Had it been anyone else, they probably wouldn't have caught it, but Stephen explained that he was a stickler for details and this stuck out to him. He explained that he went down the back stairs and saw the basement door slightly ajar. Upon entering the room, he found Leslie's body and immediately called 911. The police roped off the area in an effort to keep the crime scene clean and quiet but word traveled fast through the town and before any more backup could arrive, almost the entire town had shown up on the railings of the stairwell. It always amazed Sam that some people would want to look at something they know is horrible, like a nearly decapitated, naked young woman, and then complain that there was too much violence in society. Ironic really.

Sam sighed; he really needed Dean to come back so they could go over what they planned to say to the librarian in the morning. He couldn't come up with a decent lie off the top of his head, Dean was usually better at that, and they also needed to find a way to see the original pictures of the crime scene. However, it's a little harder to make a plan when the other member of your team is MIA. With another, somewhat irritated sigh, Sam pushed himself off the bed and pulled his jacket back over his shoulders. He switched off the TV and swiped the room key from the bedside table, tucking it in his pocket. Time to go find Dean.

About half a block away, tucked behind the little diner beside their motel, sat a bar called Morgan's. The parking lot was full, large delivery trucks parked haphazardly across the asphalt in long diagonals that nearly collided with one another. A few small cars were wedged in between them, looking like tiny bugs next to the much larger trucks. The outside of the building was paneled in wood that had initials and names carved, sketched and burned into it. Two decrepit-looking neon signs sat outside, illuminating a few truck drivers that had stepped outside to smoke. Sam passed them without meeting their questioning gaze, ignoring the feeling of eyes on his back.

A thick haze of smoke greeted him upon opening the door, the piercing whine of country music blasting through the speakers of a jukebox next to the door. A few people looked up as he walked in but quickly went back to what they were doing previously, obviously not concerned with Sam's arrival.

Dean sat in the back of the bar with a trampy-looking blond whose hair had been bleached so many times it was almost white. She wore a skin tight blue tank top that showed off an impressive view of cleavage which probably wasn't real and a pair of blue jeans that looked like they had literally been painted on. She was pretty enough, nothing like the knock-outs Dean usually tried to go for but in a town like this, the options were a little smaller.

Sam sighed and walked forward, side-stepping a few renegade bar stools, before arriving at Dean's table. There was a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the table in front of them along with two shot glasses that had gotten plenty of use during the evening. The blond looked up as Sam approached, her dark eye make-up making her look a little bit like a raccoon when she blinked. She had been staring at Dean lustfully, obviously happy with what she saw, but when Sam appeared, her gaze shifted.

"Well, who's this?" She asked, trying to make her voice sound seductive. It made her sound congested.

Sam ignored her and looked at the back of Dean's head. "Can I talk to you for a second?" He asked, watching the blond pout a little when he refused to answer her question.

Dean didn't turn around and kept his eyes to the back wall. "Not now Sam." He said, keeping his voice light when the girl's eyes flickered to him. Anyone else would have thought he was just politely brushing off an unwanted interruption but Sam knew better. There was a detectable amount of venom in his older brother's voice.

"Please?" Sam said, his voice dropping a little in a desperate attempt to prevent their situation from becoming more tense than it needed to be. Maybe appealing to Dean's title as big brother and asking for help would win this battle.

It didn't work. "No." Dean responded, his words becoming a little tighter as he spoke as if he were clenching his teeth. His hands were balled into tight fists beneath the table and he was deliberately ignoring Sam as much as humanly and environmentally possible.

Sam felt a surge of irritation at his older brother's childish behavior and felt his own fists clench at his sides. "Dean. Now." He said, reaching forward and grabbing a handful of Dean's jacket, pulling him up from the chair.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" Dean snarled, rounding on Sam furiously.

Sam let go immediately, stepping back a few feet. The blonde's eyes widened and a few people in the surrounding area turned to see what had caused the outburst.

Dean looked around at the fellow bar patrons and glared at Sam once more. Without a word, he shoved past his younger brother and walked toward the door. Sam hesitated for a second or two before offering a quick apology to the girl and following his brother outside.

Dean stalked across the parking lot, his steps a little unbalanced and off center as he swayed. He sped up as Sam followed him, trying to put as much distance between himself and his younger sibling as possible. It didn't help that Sam was stone cold sober and had longer legs than he did.

"Dean." Sam called, stopping once they had crossed nearly half the parking lot. He vaguely wondered how far Dean was going to keep walking or if he was going to stop at all when the older man turned and glared at him.

"What Sam?!" Dean growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously as they came to rest on his brother. "What the hell do you want?!"

All plans Sam had had on talking to Dean rationally went out the window and his eyes narrowed as well. "Dean, what is with you man? What do you think you're doing?!" He demanded, walking closer.

"What, I can't go out and get a drink now? Is that a crime?" Dean demanded in return, his words slurring a little as he spoke.

"No, but we're on a case. Not some stupid vacation."

"Of course its not a vacation. I'm stuck with you."

Sam ignored that and shook his head, sighing in frustration. It was nearly impossible to talk sense into Dean when he was sober, let alone drunk. "Dean," He said, trying to keep his voice level. "That news article we were sent is serious business and we need to take it seriously as well. Now we have a meeting with the guy who found that girl's body tomorrow morning and I'm going to need your help with this."

Dean shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning heavily into a car parked behind him. "What do you need my help for? _You're_ the better hunter after all."

Sam let out another frustrated sigh and shook his head. "Dean, I already told you I didn't mean-"

"No, just shut up Sam!" Dean snarled, cutting off his little brother immediately. "Every word, every fucking word out of your mouth for the past year has been nothing but a Goddamn lie and now, the first time you've told the truth in I don't know how long, you want to take it back?" He scoffed and shook his head bitterly. "Sorry Sam, but you've stabbed me in the back one time too many and you can't wipe the slate clean now. It won't work this time."

"Dean, I-"

"No, you know what? I don't want to hear it." Dean shook his head and held up one hand to prevent Sam from speaking again. "I don't want to hear another one of your excuses or your apologies or whatever else you think will make things alright between us because you know something? It's not. It's not alright." The older man stepped away from the car, glaring at his little brother. "I have spent my whole life protecting you and being the good older brother because that's what Dad. I went to hell for you Sam! I gave my life to save yours and for what? So you can go around behind my back with a fucking demon, pretending that everything is okay simply because she told you she was "helping"?" Dean shook his head angrily. "You know Sam, there was a time I would have trusted you with my life but now I don't even think I'd trust you with my wallet."

Sam remained quiet, refusing to open his mouth for fear of what may come out. Part of him knew that this verbal tirade had been building up for a while and the other part knew that he deserved most of it. Dean was a bitchy drunk, always had been. Still, he wasn't about to take it lying down. "Dean, you know nothing I said under the siren's spell was true." He said softly, trying to prevent the fight from getting any worse.

Dean shook his head incredulously. "No? Well, you want to know something that is true?" He got closer to Sam, looking him directly in the eyes. "I wish I hadn't made that deal."

Sam felt his breath hitch in his throat, a cold feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He felt like he'd been hit with a baseball bat. "W-what?"

"You heard me." Dean growled, stepping back a bit. "I wish I hadn't brought you back. I should have left you dead back at Cold Oak but I didn't and now look." He indicated Sam with a flick of his wrist. "You're not my Sam anymore. The person who came back is a shallow, deceitful liar who I'm not even sure can be called human anymore." His eyes narrowed again and he looked Sam up an down. "You're not my brother."

Sam couldn't breathe for several seconds; he felt as if his entire world had come crashing down. Dean was his one pillar of strength, the one thing he felt like he could rely on in his life, and now he was telling him that he wished he was dead. It was worse than leaving, this was disownment.

"So you know what?" Dean continued, holding up his hands as if he had just wiped them clean. "I'm done. I'm done with this hunt, I'm done searching for Lilith and I'm done with you. You want to go and use your freaky mutant powers to "help" humanity, go ahead. But I'm not going to be there to stop you when you go full dark side. That's all on you, Sam." He turned abruptly, walking back toward the bar. "See you on the battlefield." He called over his shoulder, not bothering to turn back to where Sam still stood.

It took a few moments before Sam could actually bring himself to move. In a burst of speed, he broke into a run, catching up to his older brother and grabbing his jacket. "Dean-"

Before Sam could react, Dean rounded on him and slammed his fist into the younger man's jaw. Sam stumbled backwards, falling hard on the pavement. His left hand buckled under his weight and there was an undeniable crack as some bone in his wrist broke. With a gasp, he cradled his hand to his chest, the pain in his wrist overriding the pain in his jaw. Sam looked up at Dean, his eyes searching for any trace of the caring brother he once knew. All he saw was hate and fury.

"Stay the fuck away from me." Dean snarled, fumbling beneath his shirt for a second before pulling out the necklace Sam gave him, the one he had worn constantly since he was about twelve, and ripping it off his neck. He tossed the discarded chain onto the ground and spit on the talisman. In his eyes, their bonds of brotherhood were officially over. Without looking back, Dean turned on his heel and walked back into the bar, leaving Sam crumpled and heartbroken in the parking lot.

* * *

**Wow...Dean is kind of a prick when he drinks, huh?? That hurt me to write :( As I said things won't get any better for Sam anytime soon so hopefully you guys are cool with that!! See you in the next chapter!!**


	3. Going Under

**Okay, here's where the story starts to pick up!! Just so you know, things are not going to be easy for Sam from this point on; I have several more diabolical plans for him yet :D Hope you enjoy!!**

* * *

It took a long time before Sam was able to breathe again. He felt like his heart had been ripped out, a raw gaping wound penetrating through his chest and exposing him from the inside out. _He wished I was dead…He wishes he'd never made the deal…He wished I was dead…_The words reverberated in his mind, bouncing around haphazardly into the dark corner of his thoughts filled with self-doubt and guilt that he tried not to think about. The words were final, solid, and worst of all real. Sam was now completely alone.

For several minutes he could do nothing but stare at the cracked door of the bar, sitting in the middle of the crumbled parking lot with his broken wrist cradled to his chest. He couldn't bring himself to move, certain that if he did the ground would simply vanish beneath his feet and he would tumble into the abysmal darkness below. He wanted so badly to believe that the recent event hadn't been real; a nightmare or some kind of cruel hallucination brought on by the stress of the past couple of months. The hollow, dead feeling in the pit of is stomach, however, convinced him otherwise.

A cool, northern wind whipped across the parking lot, rustling his hair and tossing bits of dust and leaves into his face. For a second, Sam wished he could blow away with the dust, scattering among the rocks and cars that lined the parking lot. It seemed fitting in a way; no one would miss him if he was gone.

Realizing sitting in the parking lot for the rest of the night was not an option and more than a little pitiful, Sam slowly managed to pull himself to his feet, his movements shaky and uneven. The ache in his jaw was overshadowed by the constant throb in his wrist; both were overshadowed by the icy emptiness that clawed at his chest. Without a second thought or another glance at the bar, Sam turned and made his way back to the motel. He needed to wrap his wrist and he wasn't sure he could handle seeing Dean again at the moment.

Part of him wanted to storm back into the bar and demand that they resolve this in the privacy of their motel room or the Impala. However, he knew it was pointless; he had never Dean more certain of anything in his life. Also, the Impala was fully loaded with weapons of every form imaginable and in his current state, Sam was relatively certain Dean would shoot him or do something equally awful before everything was said and done.

The keys jingled musically in his pocket as he walked, the rhythm of his steps causing them to shift and clink together. Another gust of wind wrapped a discarded fast food bag around his leg, ripping it off just as quickly to toss it helplessly onto the access road below the highway. A few cars passed by silently, disappearing behind the rails that lined the highway. None of them seemed to notice parking lot or its lone occupant trudging across the cracked asphalt.

Sam pulled the motel key out of his pocket with his right hand and shoved it into the lock, turning it so the tumblers would unlock themselves. The door swung open and Sam walked inside, the cold, clean smell of the room surrounding him. He dropped the key onto the table by the door and walked to his duffle bag, rummaging around in the mess of clothes and papers to retrieve a roll of duct tape. He knew there were some Ace bandages in Dean's bag but he didn't want to touch it. Anything that reminded him of the previous argument/confession was off limits for the time. Turning his back to his brother's duffle bag, Sam jerked a piece of duct tape away from the roll and began to wrap it around his rapidly swelling wrist.

The pain was enough to make him grit his teeth instinctively but if Sam were to be completely honest with himself, he barely felt it. In fact, he barely felt anything. A sick emptiness had settled in the center of his chest, heavy and cold, and Sam suddenly remembered the months after Dean had died. The same sensation had been there, gnawing and rotting away at his soul, so much so that Sam felt he could never be happy again. But then Dean had returned, pulled back from oblivion to be reunited with his brother and Sam felt the emptiness leave. Dean was back, there was no reason for it anymore. But somehow it had managed to find its way back to Sam and now that it could occupy its former home again, it had no intention of leaving again.

Sam finished with the duct tape and dropped it back into his bag, staring at the ugly painting that marred the wall blankly. His cell phone vibrated against his hip but he ignored it, his nerve endings now dead and useless. Suddenly the room was too small, the walls closing in and confining Sam to the darkest and most dreadful recesses of his mind. He needed to get out.

Sam rushed to the door, flinging it open and striding out into the parking lot. He wasn't sure where he was going but it didn't matter, he was too numb to care. A few more cars had pulled into the motel lot, parking in various random locations around the pavement. Sam walked quickly, his eyes trained on the highway but with no real direction other than that. His footsteps slowed and his pace faltered, bringing him to a stop next to a pickup that way probably a little older than he was. With a long, frustrated sigh, Sam fell back against the side of the truck, closing his eyes in irritation. He had to stay; even if Dean hated him and wanted nothing more to do with him, he was still his brother and couldn't bring himself to end it like this. Plus, they were on a case and if he could prevent another innocent life from being taken, Sam was willing to take those odds.

He sighed again, slamming his uninjured hand into the side of the truck. It could never be easy with them could it? Not even once. _No, of course not. I'm a Winchester_. Sam thought bitterly, glaring at the ground. _Easy was never in the playing cards. _

He remembered when he was younger, when he finally began to understand how bizarre the world he lived in actually was, Sam wanted nothing more than to be normal. He went to normal high schools, he dated normal girls, he played normal sports, and he forced himself to live as normally as possible. But normal was hard. It was hard to pretend that he didn't fall asleep every night in a strange hotel room with some kind of weapon containing either a bullet or a blade tucked under his pillow. It was hard to pretend that he knew more about the United States through crummy towns and haunted dive bars than he did about the actual history of the nation. It was hard to pretend that he could recite an exorcism ritual in six different languages but somehow struggled with Spanish in high school. Even when he went off to Stanford, putting as much distance between himself and that life as possible, Sam still kept a half-pound bag of rock salt in his closet and a gun in his pillow case. A normal life had chosen to skip him entirely.

Sam sighed again and looked up at the sky, the cold, distant stars twinkling brightly above him. For a split second, it felt like everything could be right in the world, like all of the bad things, the evil in the world, could be resolved. It was a nice thought, one Sam wished he could believe, but it would never happen. _Because people like me exist…_

Sam glared up at the glittering sky, his eyes narrowing angrily. "You bastard…" He mumbled, glaring pointedly at the stars. His life had been laughably unfair so he felt certain that a little direct accusation couldn't make things any worse. It was ironic really, how things had all played out. For most of his life, before he could even remember, Sam had prayed nearly every night, asking for protection for his father, Pastor Jim, Bobby, and Dean. He hardly ever asked for protection for himself, feeling that as long as the ones he loved were alright he would be too. It seemed almost funny that he spent so much of his life believing in God and praying to him and somehow it had been Dean who was chosen. Dean, who often doubted God's presence and questioned how he could let the terrible things in their lives happen. Dean, who would rather believe in nothing at all than something he could neither see nor understand. Dean, who thought faith and religion were for the weak. Dean was saved, pulled from the fiery pits of hell and appointed an angel of all things…No, none of it seemed fair. But then again, apparently _fair_ gets thrown out the window when you're six-months old and don't even possess the vocal capabilities to say "no" to the yellow-eyed demon tainting your blood with his. Fair becomes irrelevant when you've spent your entire life protecting others and risking your life for the good of humanity only to find out you're an abomination and the thing that most hunters track and destroy. Fair was a pain in the ass.

_I never wanted any of this…I never wanted to be this…_The words had become so natural in his mind that it was almost like they had built themselves into his vocabulary. His life really was meaningless; God didn't want him around, neither did the angels, and Dean certainly wasn't his biggest fan right now so what was the point? Why bother? It was all going to end the same in the end anyway…

A soft rustling off in the trees stirred him from his current thoughts and Sam looked up. His body instinctively straightened, the muscles in his back and shoulder's tensing in anticipation. He looked expectantly into the trees, waiting to see whatever had made the sound. Instead, the wind drifted through the trees lazily, rustling their branches and causing the grass to sway and lean into the breeze. Sam sighed and relaxed, leaning back against the truck. He had been doing this for far too long; even the wind was making him paranoid.

He wanted to believe that but another sound, the sound of footsteps ghosting across the pavement, caught his attention. Sam looked across the darkened asphalt, noticing once again that he was the only one out there. No staggering drunks from the bar, no motel guests that had forgotten something in the car; Sam was completely alone outside. Which meant that someone or something else was watching him, staying just out of sight. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his stomach did a slow flip. What made matters even worse was that there was no telling how long it had been there.

Sam cursed softly under his breath, realizing that it was the first time in nearly twelve years that he'd gone outside in a strange town without a gun or some other weapon that operated with bullets. He glanced across the parking lot, his eyes landing on the motel room door. He could make a run for it, possibly manage to get a gun before whatever had been stalking him was able to get a good hit in. Still, there was no guarantee he'd be able to outrun whatever it was. The Impala was closer but the trunk was locked and Dean was the only one who had the keys. His options were running pretty thin.

Another set of footsteps, this time closer, brushed around the side of the truck he was standing next to. Sam could almost feel the breeze of the person passing him.

Sam glanced into the back end of the pickup, taking inventory of the various items that were scattered across the bed. There was a busted vacuum cleaner against one side (useless), a pair of rubber rain boots (even more useless), and a spare tire (heavy and useless). Even his improvised weapon options sucked! His eyes landed on the wooden handle of a shovel, tucked under the toolbox. With slow, purposeful movement, Sam snaked his right arm into the bed of the pickup and gripped the shovel, pulling it out and holding it at his side. He stepped away from the truck, determined not to place himself in corner if at all possible, and held the shovel close like a clunky, rusted version of a sword.

The night air swirled around him briefly as something too fast for him to see raced past. The blade of the shovel was tapped and Sam whipped around abruptly, eyes scanning the empty lot. There was a chuckle to his left, dark and menacing, and then a footstep to his right, close to his side. Sam spun in all directions, holding his shovel out, blade first, to his unseen attacker. He really needed help, or at least a gun.

The shovel was suddenly knocked away from him with enough force to send Sam staggering to the side. His weapon clattered to the ground and he was just about to make a grab for it when a voice made him freeze in his tracks.

"Hello Sam."

Sam felt his blood turn to ice, his hand frozen in mid-grasp toward the shovel. A cold, unnatural fear swirled up his spin, threatening to overwhelm him. It was a voice he never expected to hear again. Ever. That person was dead…

Reacting quickly, Sam shot upright and turned toward the voice, right fist clenched at his side. Nothing but an empty lot.

"Too slow, kiddo."

Sam didn't even see the gun until the bullet had ricocheted through his shoulder and slammed him into the pavement. Hell, he didn't even see the person until it was too late. A pain unlike any he'd ever known engulfed his right shoulder, blood instantly blossoming from the wound and gushing over the fabric of his shirt. Sam gasped, his bandaged left hand flying to the wound instinctively. Not that it would do any good, one hand alone wasn't nearly enough to provide decent pressure. Sam's eyes squeezed closed and he struggled to breathe normally, the pain making him dizzy. He was staring up at the cold stars again, gasping and suddenly wondering why it had become so damn hard to breathe, when the man appeared above him.

The dark face appeared darker in the shadows and the black eyes glared down viciously at the injured young man. A thin, humorless smile appeared across his mouth and he reached down, brushing the shovel out of Sam's reach. "Small world, huh?"

Sam shuddered at the sight of the man, his eyes fluttering slightly from pain. "G-Gordon…" He gasped, the words coming out in a harsh whisper.

Gordon smiled darkly, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly. "Good to see you too, Sammy." He hefted the discarded shovel into one hand and swung and Sam knew nothing but darkness.

* * *

**Bwahaha!! I'm sorry but I just had to leave it there :D Don't worry, Sam's not dead or anything! Also, I know Gordon died (like, decapitated died) but I promise to explain all of that in a couple of chapters! At first I planned to use Bela as my villain but then I was like, "nah, no motive." But Gordon had the whole over-zealous, "kill the demons and to hell with whoever they are" kind of attitude going on and he hated Sam. Yay motive!! :D Okay, so I'm done rambling now. Hope you like it!! Let me know!!**


	4. Crosses To Bare

**Whooo!! Okay, so I don't know how happy I am about this chapter. I wanted to include alot more dialogue but I felt like I was starting to repeat myself so I just kinda left it the way it is now. Hopefully its okay!!**

* * *

A loud, persistent knocking was the first thing that jarred Dean into consciousness. He groaned, burying his face a little deeper into the stiff pillow in an attempt to drown out the intrusive sound. He'd stumbled in the night before around 4:30 and had immediately fallen into a deep, alcohol induced sleep. He'd half expected to find Sam sitting in the room, pouting or something along those lines, begging to talk things out. To be honest, he couldn't remember a lot of what had been said between them when he'd met Sam out in the bar parking lot (whiskey has a funny way of doing that to you) but he knew there had been some kind of confrontation. Dean had been angry the night before, too much stress and too little sleep had driven him to become irrational and on edge. Whatever he'd said to Sam the night before had obviously been bad enough to make his younger brother not return to the room but he wasn't sure what it was. Not that it mattered anyway; he was still brewing over what had transpired the week before.

The knocking continued and Dean groaned again, rolling away from the door. He was still the same clothes from the night before, the bed half-unmade around him from tossing and turning. His shoes were off, so that was an accomplishment, but other than that the night before was still hanging on him like the clothes he wore.

"Dean! Open the damn door, I know you're in there!" A gruff, male voice demanded from outside.

Bobby. Of course; Bobby knew they were in the area and considering the recent events he had probably decided to drop in and check on them. Ever since their father had died, Bobby had tried to keep a close eye on the boys, talking to them at least once a week to make sure everything was alright. He felt responsible, like a second father almost, and was determined to keep the remaining Winchesters together even if it was the death of him.

"Go 'way, Bobby!" Dean called, his voice thick and heavy in the back of his throat. His head hurt, his eyes hurt, hell everything hurt. This morning's hangover was definitely not God's way of saying "you kicked ass last night." The last thing he wanted or needed at the moment was a lecture from Bobby.

He didn't really have a choice in the matter because within a few seconds, Bobby was in the room, slipping his lock-picking tools into his back pocket. The older hunter was quite possibly the best lock-pick Dean had ever met and could usually have a door begging for mercy in just under three seconds. And, considering this motel used a relatively cheap brand of locks for their doors, it was even easier.

"Dammit, boy. Don't you ever check your phone?" Bobby looked down at the younger hunter sprawled across the bed, hair and clothing mussed from the night before, and shook his head. "Dean. Up." He said, swatting Dean's leg to emphasize his point.

Dean made some kind of garbled noise in the back of his throat and turned away, bringing the pillow over his face. It was way too early for this.

"Dean, I'm serious. Get your ass up." Bobby continued, glancing around the room vaguely. He was used to the "command center" that was usually set up in hunter's rooms, newspaper clippings and maps spread out all across the available walls. To his surprise, nothing had been set up or even take out. The room was eerily…normal. "I got a call last night about a group of kids attempting some kind of ritual about a block away from where that murder victim was found. I think we should look into it." He glanced back to the other empty bed across the room and frowned. "Where's Sam?"

Dean sat up on his elbows and shook his head, wincing as the light blinded him temporarily. "How the hell should I know?" He grumbled, definitely not in the mood for any kind of prying or questioning about his brother at the moment.

Bobby's frown deepened and he looked at the door briefly. "You don't know?"

"No, I don't." Dean said, sitting up a little straighter. "And you know what? I don't care. He can take care of himself." He couldn't help it, he was still upset over what had happened with the Siren. It didn't matter that the words Sam had said had all be part of the Siren's venom, they still hurt. Deep down, part of him knew they weren't true but the emotional side of his brain wasn't ready to let it go yet. "It's not like he needs me anyway…"

Before he could even react, Bobby had crossed the room and swatted him sharply across the back of the head. "Dammit Dean!"

Dean winced and rubbed the back of his head, glaring at the older man. "What the hell was that for?!" He snapped, irritation boiling to the surface.

"God, I'm so sick of this from the two of you!" Bobby continued, slamming his hand down on the table beside the door hard enough to make Dean jump.

"Sick of what?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "You and Sam have done nothing but bitch and gripe at each other for months now and I'm sick of listening to it! Now either you two have a knock down drag out fight and get all of this out of your system or get over it because we got work to do and its not going to put itself on hold just because you boys are in a tiff!"

Dean was on his feet in an instant, anger and indignation flashing through his eyes. "You don't get it, Bobby." He growled, pacing around the room like a caged animal. "Sam's the one who's been going around behind my back; becoming friends with a demon, using his powers when he knows how dangerous it is. And now he tells me he doesn't need me, that he's the better hunter and I'm supposed to be okay with that?!" Dean's fists clenched at his sides. "I have given up everything for him, Bobby! I went to Hell for him! Do you know what that's like?! And then to have him say I'm holding him back?!" He shook his head slowly, clenching his jaw. "You don't understand Bobby."

Bobby watched the younger man pace for a few more seconds, a mixture of confusion and hesitation written across his face. "No. You know what Dean? You're right, I don't understand and neither does Sam and to be honest we probably never will but at least Sam was trying. He gave you every opportunity to talk to him, even asked you to confide in him when it became too much to bear and you just keep finding faults in him. You want him to be wrong." Bobby shook his head. "While you were gone, Sam did what he had to to survive and granted, some of his decisions may not have been the best ones but he did it so he could go on."

"Yeah, I can see that. Teaming up with Ruby was a really good plan." Dean groused, arms crossed angrily over his chest. "She's the one who's been helping his with his powers after all."

The older hunter sighed and leaned against the wall, gazing across the room. "Dean, did you ever stop to think that maybe Sam's powers didn't develop after you went to Hell but _because_ you went to Hell?"

Dean hesitated, his rapid pacing pausing for a second. "What do you mean?"

Bobby shook his head. "Dean, I know you're not stupid, son." The hunter crossed his arms over his chest, chewing thoughtfully on the side of his lip. "Yeah, Sam took your dad's death pretty hard, his girlfriend's probably even harder, but Dean…your death damn near destroyed him. He wouldn't look at me for nearly a week, let alone talk to me. He shut down, Dean. Completely shut down for almost a month after you died so don't think it was easy on any of us up here." Bobby sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. "So you went to Hell for a few months, so Sam has been using his powers. Dean, we all have our crosses to bare, some of them heavier than others, but dwelling on that fact won't change anything. "

Bobby sighed again and looked directly at Dean. "Son, there's a war coming and if you two don't stop arguing long enough to do something about it, soon there won't be anything left to argue about…"

Dean was quiet for a long minute. He knew Bobby was right; he probably had been looking for faults in his little brother and lashing out at him unfairly over the past couple of months. He knew Sam would never do those things unless absolutely necessary and right now, absolutely necessary tended to happen a lot. He sighed heavily. "God, I'm sorry Bobby…" He mumbled, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "Things have just been so…screwed up lately, you know?"

Bobby nodded sympathetically and shrugged. "Well, don't apologize to me. You need to tell it to Sam. Now where is he?"

Dean blew out a breath through his mouth and shook his head. "I really don't know. We kinda got into last night and I went back to the bar. I figured he came back here but we were supposed to meet with Mr. Laws, that guy who found the girl's body, this morning. He probably went there."

Bobby nodded a little. "Well, alright. Let's make our way up there as well."

He waited patiently as Dean stumbled around the room, picking out a change of clean clothes and slipping them on. He washed his face, trying to scrub away some of the night before and grabbed the manila folder Sam had left on his bed. He flipped through it briefly, not really needing to read anything but wanting to make sure it was all there just in case.

"Alright, ready when you are." Dean said once he was dressed and a little more presentable.

They stepped outside, the early morning sun streaking across the parking lot. Dean squinted as they walked, holding the folder above his eyes so he could follow Bobby. The older hunter's truck was parked across the lot and considering he knew his way around the area a little better than Dean did, he was driving.

"Hey, hang on just a sec." Dean said, turning back toward the Impala. His wallet that he kept most of the fake in was under the front seat. It kept it in an easily accessible location without drawing too much attention to the fact that all nine of the cards within the wallet's sleeves were fake. He knew they probably wouldn't need the entire thing but it was just a precaution.

Bobby kept walking, his keys dangling in his hand loosely. An old pickup was parked next to his, a busted vacuum cleaner lying across the bed of the truck. He stopped next to his own truck and unlocked the door, pushing a few maps and coffee cups out of the way. A renegade scrap of paper fluttered out of the seat and onto the ground next to the other truck. Bobby cursed softly and dropped to one knee, reaching for the paper. One thing about being a hunter is that you never leave a trail, even if it's a receipt for gas and coffee.

He stopped, something small and plastic catching his eye. Frowning, Bobby reached forward and grabbed the item, pulling it back so that he could look at it. "Dean."

Dean pulled away from the Impala at the sound of his name and looked over. Something about Bobby's voice was off. "What's wrong?"

The older man jogged over to him, clutching something in his hand. "When was the last time you saw Sam?" He asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

Dean felt a wave of butterflies appear in his stomach and he had to swallow. "Uh, last night. Why?"

Bobby's eyes didn't hide the concern as he handed the younger man a broken, blood-splattered phone. Sam's phone. Dean felt his blood turn to ice in his veins and for a second he couldn't breathe. "Oh my God…" He choked, snatching the shattered phone and holding it as if it were the last piece of his brother he would ever see. "Sammy…"

* * *

**Yay!! So Dean is now back into full-on big brother mode!! (Its about time O.o) Huzzah!! See you in the next chapter!! :D**


	5. Redemption

**Yay!! More hurt Sam in this chapter!! Hehe, I have no intention of making it easy for him for a while, just so you know :D (God, I'm sick...)**

* * *

Consciousness returned with a dull, bone-clenching throb that radiated down his entire right side. Sam blinked slowly, his eyelids heavy and unresponsive. The world swayed around him sickeningly, twisting and turning in odd directions and making it even harder to keep his eyes open. With a greater amount of effort than he deemed entirely necessary, Sam managed to roll his head up, fighting the wave of nausea that accompanied the motion.

He was tied to a chair, his hands bound behind his back with a thick, coarse rope that was cutting deeply into the duct tape that bandaged his injured wrist. His feet were tied as well, a length of rope looping around each ankle and tightly suspending it to the leg of the chair. A painfully sore gash behind his ear from where the shovel had hit him was still bleeding sluggishly, trickling down the side of his neck and staining his shirt. A towel of some sort had been wrapped around his right shoulder, slowing the bleeding enough to prevent him dying of blood loss but that was about it. The towel was completely soaked through, blending in nicely with the large, deep crimson stain that stretched over the right side of his chest. Sam was pretty sure his left shoulder was dislocated as well, his arm hanging down a little further than it should have. He let out a painful sigh; today really sucked…

With another forced effort, Sam slowly turned his head, glancing around the room he was being held prisoner in. High, grey brick walls stretched up to a metal ceiling, the crossbeams exposed in the dull, hanging lights. A large, shadowed machine loomed in the back corner of the room, too far away for Sam to see, but emitting an ominous presence nonetheless. The room had a vague chemical smell, the air heavy with the scent of bleach and other cleaning compounds used to mask another scent. The room smelled like blood.

There was a rush of movement somewhere behind him and Sam struggled to turn, the movements making him dizzy and lightheaded. A shudder of nausea washed through him and he hung his head forward, convinced he was going to be sick. Sam waited, bile burning the back of his throat. He really wished he'd just go ahead and throw up and get it over with. Another shift of movement to his left caused him to look to the side but his eyes wouldn't focus. He blinked quickly, squeezing his eyes shut tightly in an attempt to clear his vision.

"So you're awake, huh?" A deep voice observed from over his shoulder. There was a swish of air as something unseen slipped past him and suddenly appeared in his line of vision. Gordon smirked darkly and placed a chair a few feet away from Sam's, straddling it and facing him.

"Gordon…" Sam gasped, gritting his teeth as the simple action of forming words made his head throb. "What do you want man…? Haven't you tried to kill me, like, thirty-eight times already?"

Gordon chuckled humorlessly and shook his head. "Twice." He corrected, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Three times if you count our first meeting." He plucked a cigarette from a pack he'd stolen from Sam's coat pocket. It was nasty little habit he'd picked up after Dean died, the acrid smoke of the cigarettes filling a tiny portion of the void left by his brother's death. When Dean had returned, Sam had given up smoking but not the cigarettes. He wanted to put his last cigarette out in Lilith's eye.

"You know?" Gordon started, lighting one and taking a drag on it. "These are pretty hazardous to your health."

"Yeah? Well that makes two things in this room…" Sam shook his head weakly; this wasn't making any sense. Gordon hated him, had tried to kill him several times in the past; so why was he sitting here making small talk with him? Not that he wanted to shorten his life any further, because it was almost a given that he wasn't going to walk away from this one, but Sam had to know. "What are you doing Gordon…?" Sam asked finally, the words coming out in a breathy pant. It was getting harder to stay conscious. "Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?" Another thought occurred to him and Sam's eyes narrowed slightly. "And how the hell are you still alive…? I killed you…like, decapitated killed you…"

Gordon simply smirked and shook his head, crushing the cigarette between his fingers. "Sorry Sammy, but I'm not going to reveal my secrets to you just yet." He leaned back in the chair, dropping the discarded cigarette onto the ground. " I heard Dean was back-"

"It's Sam…" Sam corrected, cutting him off before he could finish, forcing the words out with as much effort as he could put forth.

Gordon smirked again and shrugged one shoulder. "Is it?" He asked, standing slowly and stepping away from the chair. "Because it seems to me that demons don't really have any use for first names." He crouched in front of Sam's chair, looking him directly in the eyes. "You know, you and I are not so unlike now…"

Sam shook his head angrily, another wave of dizziness sweeping through him. "I'm nothing like you…" He growled, looking down at the ground in an attempt to easy to swaying around him.

The former hunter chuckled darkly, his fangs gleaming ever so slightly in the dim light. "Nothing like me?" He repeated, moving back into Sam's line of vision. "You have demon blood flowing through your veins, kiddo. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but from where I'm standing, you're actually worse than I am. You're a demon, Sam. A monster."

Sam squeezed his eyes closed, a dull shockwave of pain shooting through his shoulder. He didn't want to hear this…he already knew it.

"You think Dean doesn't see it every time he looks at you? Especially since you were the one that damned him in the first place?"

Gordon's words pierced deeply but not deep enough to be permanent. After all, it's hard to be affected by something you've realized long ago. The looks Dean gave him sometimes, that cautious, instinctive look their father had instilled in them when they were on a hunt, was enough to convince Sam that he was something else. Something dangerous.

"You know, Dean may not be able to see that black tint in your eyes just yet, but I can see it as clear as day."

"Alright... so just kill me then!" Sam cried angrily, hot tears prickling behind his eyes. He had nothing left to lose anyway, now that Dean was gone again. "Instead of going on and on about how much of a monster I am... why don't you just rip my throat out and be done with it…?!"

Gordon chuckled and shook his head, taking a step back. "Sorry Sam, I may be on the same level as you but I'm not going to taint myself with your blood. You can keep it."

A new anger began to develop in the pit of Sam's stomach and he grit his teeth. Even a vampire, a fucking _vampire_, didn't want his cursed blood. Just Goddamn wonderful. "So why am I here then? Why did you shoot me and then bandage my shoulder when you could have just let me die in the parking lot…?"

The vampire smirked once more, teeth peeking behind his lips. "Oh trust me, I have no intention of letting you leave alive." Gordon walked across the room and grabbed a dusty rag that had been left in a corner. He returned a few seconds later and began to tear off the other blood soaked rag. "You see, I have a plan for you Sam: one that will end in your death and Dean's redemption."

Sam winced as the rag was pulled away, a trickle of fresh blood oozing from the shredded hole in his shoulder. "Dean's redemption…?"

Gordon nodded, tossing the blood soaked rag across the room with a wet slap. "You see, I never had a problem with your brother other than the fact that he let you live, even knowing what you were. So I'm going to give him one last chance to redeem himself as a hunter. I'm going to make sure he kills you himself."

Sam's eyes widened slightly but the blood loss was beginning to make consciousness a fleeting idea. "What…? He'll kill you as well…you know that…"

Gordon nodded again with a shrug. "Oh I know, and I'll let him. But not before I'm certain that you are out of the picture for good. You see Sam, that's why I couldn't stay dead in the first place. Because you were still alive. And I figured that if I was to ever have a purpose in my life…well, afterlife, it would be to make sure that monsters like you don't walk the earth." Gordon's eyes darkened and he glared at Sam. "You were the reason I came back, Sam. I came back to make sure you would die by a hunter's hands. And who better than your own brother?" Another sinister smirk crossed Gordon's face as he wrapped the other rag around Sam's shoulder, tightening it mercilessly. "Can't have you bleeding to death before then." He explained, tightening the rag even more.

Blinding pain shot through Sam's shoulder and his stomach flipped into his throat. He gasped in agony, gritting his teeth tightly but it did nothing to alleviate the pain. It became too much and the edges of his vision began to darken, his senses fading dramatically. He could hear his heart pounding rapidly in his ears but it became just a dull swish of noise as the room began to darken. Consciousness decided then that it would be a good time to get the hell out of Dodge and Sam's world faded.

* * *

**Eek! Gordon's plan is revealed!! Jerk O.o Okay, so I know it doesn't really explain how Gordon came back but I will get to that, I promise!! Hope you like it!! :D**


	6. I Want Him Back

**Hello all!! Wow...105 reviews; You guys rock!! Seriously, you guys are so awesome it makes my day :D I'm so sorry, I meant to update much sooner than this but we unexpectedly went out of town O.o Anyway, hope you guys like it!!**

* * *

"This is a waste of time…" Dean grumbled, his fists clenched in the pockets of his jacket. He shifted his weight restlessly from one foot to the other, jaw tight and nerves on edge. He was about a half a second away from lunging across the desk and rattling some useful information out of the rambling old man in front of him but Bobby's hand, planted firmly in his lower back with a fistful of his shirt clenched in his fingers, kept him from doing so.

"Dean." The older man shot him a warning glance, tightening his grip ever so slightly on his shirt. He knew that if it came down to it, he probably couldn't hold Dean back and then there would be hell to pay. It had taken nearly every ounce of strength Bobby possessed earlier that morning to prevent him from driving off aimlessly in search of Sam. Dean was strong, ridden with guilt, and he was pissed. In simple terms, he was a walking time bomb. Bobby shuddered slightly, remembering the last time he'd had to hold Dean back from bolting into the darkness to do something reckless. It had been the night Sam had died.

Finding his brother's cell phone this morning, cracked and covered in blood, had been the trigger and it was only a matter of time before it led to something else. Dean had fought against Bobby violently, struggling wildly like a caged animal. He spouted every curse word he could think of, probably even making up a few, and even punched the hood of the Impala in his rage. Sam was gone; he didn't know where, he didn't know who or what had taken him, or if he was even still alive. All of those factors rolled into one made one very dangerous hunter.

Bobby turned his attention back to Stephen Laws, the elderly librarian, and cleared his throat softly. "Mr. Laws, we were talking about Leslie Foster?" He said, hoping to lead the conversation back to its original starting point.

Mr. Laws blinked owlishly, his glasses sliding down a little on the bridge of his nose. He was a thin man, the thick grey sweater he wore hanging on his shoulders like a coat hanger. His hair was grey and had receded so far back he was nearly bald except for a half-circle the rose just above his ears. He had gotten off topic, going on about how many people didn't appreciate the value of library any more because of the development of computers and television. He went on to say the town was even thinking about closing the library down at the end of the year even though it had been here for nearly eighty years. Mr. Laws explained that he had been the head librarian for the past thirty-three years and was very upset about the recent development and-

"Mr. Laws."

The old man blinked again, pulled out of his reverie and looked up at the man in front of him. "I'm sorry son, what were you saying?"

The younger man next to him growled deeply in his throat but his partner silenced him with one look. "We were wondering what you could tell us about Leslie Foster. Your assistant?"

Mr. Laws nodded slowly, a remorseful look shadowing his wrinkled face. "Ah yes, Leslie…" He said, the girl's name coming out as little more than a whisper. "She was a wonderful girl; probably the best assistant I ever had." He smiled softly and shook his head. "Poor girl…she died in such a horrible way…"

"You were the first one to see her body, correct?" Bobby continued, pretending to write down notes on a small pad of paper in front him. He had told Mr. Laws that he and Dean were doing a news story for the next county over and needed his version of what had happened.

Mr. Laws nodded, thinking hard for a minute. "Yes, I happened to notice something that looked a little bit like blood on the railing leading down to our basement and saw that the back door was open. I went down to check and saw Leslie strapped to the table, covered in blood. I called the police." He shrugged a little, the movement causing his entire body to move. "Once the police arrived, they shut down the area and wouldn't let anyone through."

Bobby nodded, scribbling down a few lines of nothing. "And you said there was sulfur in the room?"

The old man nodded again, his eyes widening a little as he pushed his glasses higher up on his nose. "Yes. The room smelled strongly of sulfur." He thought for a second, touching his chin lightly. "It was everywhere now that I think about it…there was a lot by the door, probably some on the stairs…"

Bobby scribbled something else and frowned. Most demons didn't leave large amounts of sulfur behind. Unless there was more than one in the basement…

While Bobby proceeded to ask Mr. Laws a few more questions, Dean worked diligently at keeping his cool. His hand brushed past his collar, the absence of his talisman causing him to become even more edgy. What was worse, tiny snippets of the argument from the night before had begun to resurface, swirling around in his mind and making his guilt grow even faster. It had been one thing when he just knew about the argument, not remembering the specifics, but now he could recall everything he said, his actions, the look on Sam's face…It made him sick. He had told him he wished he was dead, that he wished he hadn't made the deal. The shock and disgust that accompanied that realization nearly overwhelmed him. And to top it all off, as if the rest hadn't been bad enough, Dean had taken his talisman, the thing he hadn't taken off since the day Sam had given it to him, and thrown it at him. It was like adding salt to raw wound.

_So now we're even; you happy?_ His brain chided bitterly, bile rising in the back of his throat at the thought. He had gotten on to Sam for the things he had said while under the Siren's spell, and even though Sam insisted he didn't mean any of it, Dean didn't believe him. But the things Dean had said were not influenced by any supernatural entity or otherworldly creature. No, his words were spoken with pure venom bred by the fear and anger that had been building up over the year. He was completely disgusted with himself.

Bobby finished his questions and thanked Mr. Laws, shaking his hand lightly for fear of breaking some of the thin bones that lay just beneath the skin. He nodded to Dean and gently pushed him toward the door, keeping his hand wrapped in the younger man's shirt just in case. Once outside, he let go and slipped the pad of paper into his back pocket. "Okay, so we didn't find out anything new from him." He mumbled softly, squinting in the early morning sunlight. "We're probably going to have to go up to the police station and see if we can get some information form them."

"God dammit!!" Dean growled suddenly, slamming his fist into the brick wall hard enough to tear all the skin off his knuckles. He ignored the pain, clenching his fist tightly as blood slipped in between his fingers and trailed down his wrist.

"Dean…" Bobby said, trying his best to calm the younger man down.

"We're wasting our time, Bobby!" Dean snapped, pacing across the sidewalk angrily. "What were we trying to learn from him, huh?! That there's another fucking demon in this town?!" He kicked a metal mailbox hard enough to make the structure rattle. "We need to find Sam! We don't know who or what took him or where the hell he even is! He could be dead for all we know and we're stuck here talking to some senile old man whose biggest concern is whether or not the library is going to be closed down!" Dean face was red with exertion, his shoulders sagging in despair.

Bobby watched him for a moment, unsure what to say for several second. Finally, he walked over and placed a gentle, fatherly hand on Dean's shoulder, turning him to face him. "Dean, we are going to find Sam. I think whatever took him is still in this area, hiding out and possibly using him as a pawn." Bobby had a good feeling that the demon or whoever it was that was responsible for Leslie's death was connected to Sam's disappearance as well. "Your brother's a fighter, Dean. He's not going to go down that easily."

Dean shook his head violently, tears prickling in his eyes. "You don't…" He started but stopped, looking down at the ground angrily. He was silent for a several seconds, his breathing heavy with emotion. "I want him back, Bobby…" He said finally, scrubbing angrily at the tears that slid down his face. "I want him back…"

Bobby nodded slowly, his heart going out to the younger man. He knew how close the boys were; even though the past year had been hard on both of them, that bond hadn't been completely severed yet. "I know Dean."

Dean sniffed and rubbed his eyes, a coppery streak of blood appearing on his cheek as he did. "I said some really awful things to him…Sam thinks I hate him now…"

"Dean, I'm sure-"

"I told him I wished I never made the deal, Bobby!" Dean cried, the disgust and despair evident in his voice. "I told him I wished he was dead! Why would I-?!" He couldn't finish the question as a deep sob ripped from his throat and he collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

For a long time, Bobby didn't say anything. He let Dean cry, releasing all of the pent up anger and guilt that had been gnawing at him all morning. He knelt slowly and rubbing the younger man's back, waiting patiently as the sobbing slowly died off and was replaced by a few hiccupping breaths. "Dean, I'm sure Sam knows you didn't mean any of that. You were angry and anger leads people to say some pretty stupid things; you know that and so does he. When we find him, you two can work all of this out, okay?"

Dean said nothing, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to hold off the remaining tears.

"We are going to find him, Dean." Bobby reassured him, his voice full of enough conviction that Dean almost believed him. "Trust me, we will find him."

* * *

**Okay, so a bit more angst but it will get better!! Hope you like it!! :D**


	7. Instinct

**Hey guys!! So this chapter calls for a little more Sam angst/torture but its nothing too bad. This chapter is a little shorter than the others and originally I wasn't going to put it in but I got a lot of questions about the missing necklace so this chapter kind of explains it :D Hope you all like it!!**

* * *

The distinct snap of a bone in two of his fingers jerked Sam back into consciousness. He gasped, hissing sharply between his teeth and hanging his head forward, focusing on not vomiting from the sudden onset of more pain. Waves of fiery intensity shot through his nerves, making his injured fingers twitch and spasm without his control. That combined with his already broken wrist and the blood oozing from the raw wound in his shoulder was causing him to become nauseous.

"Its amazing what some people will leave just laying around." A deep voice said somewhere to his side and Sam looked up, straining to keep his eyes focused. Gordon moved around so that he was in Sam's visual range and took a seat in the chair across from him again. He waved a pair of pliers in front of his hostage and smirked darkly. "Found these over in a corner." He explained, looking at the metal utensils with only vague interest. "Had to make sure you hadn't just conveniently slipped into a coma while I wasn't watching."

Sam took a few deep, shaky breaths, his head spinning and throbbing at the same time. He opened his mouth to say something but the words wouldn't come, his body finding that breathing seemed to be a more vital task at the moment, especially considering it was becoming a little more difficult with each passing second.

Gordon watched him, smiling just enough so that his fangs were visible. "Were you going to say something, Sammy? Because you might want to spit it out soon; there's no telling when your brother's going to come by to finish the job."

Sam grit his teeth, glaring at the ground for a second in an effort to clear his mind. "You might as well just kill me Gordon…" He gasped, his words coming out breathy and uneven. He didn't want to say the rest, knowing it was putting finality to what he was already aware of. "Dean's not coming…" His mind was too fogged to even think about how long he'd been sitting, tied to this chair. It could have been hours or it could have been days, he simply didn't know.

"I doubt that, I left him plenty of clues."

Sam shook his head weakly and winced, tears prickling his eyes as he spoke. "No…he's not coming because he doesn't care…he wished I was dead…"

"You think so, huh?" The former hunter smirked and stood, skating the pliers across the room. "Well that would make my job much easier, I should have just left you with him." He chuckled softly at his grim joke. He brushed past Sam briefly and the younger man unconsciously flinched, waiting for whatever blow was coming next.

"You see, unlike you, I'm certain your brother will come." A few seconds later, Gordon was back in front of him, sinking down into the chair with something swinging from his index finger. It was Dean's talisman.

For a split second, Sam was angry, not sure where Gordon had gotten that. If anything, even if it was he only thing he could save from his brother, Sam wanted to keep that necklace. He struggled weakly against his restraints, the movements making his shoulder ache deeply. He stopped, breathing heavily, and swallowed. "Where…did you get that…?" He growled, glaring as hard as he could.

Gordon shrugged and examined the talisman, flipping it a few times in the palm of his hand. "It was in your pocket." He explained simply, glancing at Sam as if it were the most obvious explanation in the world.

Sam stopped, shaking his head slowly. _How could it have been in my pocket? I never picked it up…_His mind reasoned, drifting back to the night (day?) before the confrontation he'd had with Dean. He remembered the bitter words all too well and the sting of his brother's voice as he threw the necklace to the ground but it stayed there in the parking lot; Sam was sure he hadn't consciously retrieved it from the ground. Had he? He fought past another wave of dizziness and thought harder, placing himself back in the parking lot. His movements had been so stiff, mechanical, that he hardly felt anything he did until he was standing up. However, his brain brushed past the memory of his hand sliding across the rough pavement and capturing the necklace, gripping it tightly and one hand and shoving it in his pocket. He had completely forgotten about it until now.

The younger man winced as his shoulder throbbed again and was greeted with the awareness that a cold sweat had broken out across his forehead. What was even more upsetting was the fact that he wasn't sure whether he was hot or cold; the sensations were too muddled to be separated at the time. He shivered faintly and shook his head, trying once again to clear his vision. "How…are you so sure he'll come…?" He asked, wanting to know why Gordon seemed to have a better answer than he did.

Gordon shrugged again and stood, pacing around the chair absently. "Your brother has a sense of duty, Sam. He'll come because that's what he's trained to do." The older man stopped and stared straight ahead to the darkened walls of the building. "I did it with my sister, when she was taken." He explained, his voice dropping ever so slightly. He turned to face Sam and grinned, the expression causing his lips to curl back and reveal two very sharp fangs protruding from his mouth. "I also know that's why he'll do the right thing and put you and the world out of its misery." He stepped a little closer, his body illuminated by the dim lights. "Dean will come because his natural instinct is to find you, even though he knows what you've become. He doesn't want to believe it and probably denied it for a long time; but deep inside he knows you're not human anymore." Gordon shook his head apologetically and sighed. "Sorry Sammy, but that's the way its gotta be."

Sam closed his eyes, trying his best to block out Gordon's voice. He didn't want to believe any of it but he knew it was true. Their whole life they had been trained to destroy anything demonic or supernatural, no if, ands, or buts about the situation. It didn't even matter if the person was innocent or a victim of circumstance. But now Sam was cursed by this demon blood and he was on the opposite side of the playing field. Their own father had even told Dean he may have to kill him one day. At first Sam didn't want to believe it, certain there had to be some kind of mistake. But as the days passed by, one by one, it became ever clearer that he was in fact something else.

Maybe it was for the best. If there ever came a day when he could no longer control himself and ended up hurting Dean or Bobby because of it…Sam didn't think he could handle that. The sooner they were rid of him, the better.

Gordon brushed past him once more, dropping the talisman into his bound hands casually. "I'll let you hang onto that." He said with a absent shrug. "I'm sure you've got a lot to think about." He disappeared behind the chair once more, his footsteps echoing in the empty room. There was a low hum from somewhere up above and the lights flickered faintly before going out, leaving Sam alone in nothing but darkness.

* * *

**Yay!! He will be rescued soon I promise...or do I?? Hehe, check again to find out!!**


	8. Trap

**Yay!! Okay, so my explanation for Gordon's return is in this chapter and it actually came from a Vampire Lore book a friend of mine has. Thanks to the Twilight phenomena (wtf? jk =P) everyone and their dog has abook on vampires and this legend came from somewhere in Eastern Europe. Supposedly, soil acts as a healing agent for vampires and can help even fatal wounds heal. I thought it was an interesting premise and decided to use it to my advantage :D Let me know what you think, okay?? Hope you all like it!!**

* * *

"Look, Mr. Harris, I'm sorry but I can't release that information to you." A young woman sitting behind a desk near one wall of the police station explained. Her dark hair was swept back into a low, no-nonsense bun and she looked like she hadn't slept in a few days. "It's for the family's benefit more than anything but its still classified information that I can't give out to just anyone."

Bobby nodded and rested his forearms against the desk, leaning forward a little. "I understand, darlin'," He started, glancing around the room carefully. The police station was very small, big enough for a couple of desks, three offices, and maybe two holding cells in the back. It was not a place that had been designed to hold prisoners for longer than a day or two. The building seemed cramped but considering the size of the town, a bigger station seemed unnecessary. However, with the recent murder, it seemed that every officer had been working round the clock and a few more might not be such a bad idea. "It's just…my job is on the line for this story, you know?"

The female officer sighed heavily and slumped back in her chair. "Yeah, well my job is on the line as well." She snapped tiredly, rubbing her eyes. "We've been getting all these nut-job reporters coming in from the surrounding area, demanding to see the case file to see if they can find something we missed." She held up a dossier and waved it carelessly as if it was slowly but surely grinding on her nerves just like everything else. "Leslie Foster has literally turned into this town's Black Dahlia. In a town this size, something like this can be almost catastrophic and considering we have no finger prints and no leads to go on, the residents are getting pretty panicky." She sighed again and glanced out the window to the setting sun.

"Look…Leslie's memorial service was held the day before yesterday and it really brought it home for a lot of people. We couldn't even keep her body here in the town after we found her. The closest hospital is about an hour's drive from here so we had to ship her somewhere else to a medical examiner before her funeral could even be planned." The weariness in the officer's voice had grown over the past couple of minutes. "The last thing I need is for some reporter to come in and blow up the entire story to make it worse than it already is." The folder fell back on the desk with a loud, papery slap. "I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

Bobby glanced back at Dean who had hung back near the door. He had half expected him to make some kind of comment about the officer's speech but he remained silent; fists dug into his pockets and jaw set in a tight line. He still felt like they were wasting time chasing after something that was completely unrelated to Sam's disappearance but he didn't say anything. Bobby insisted on talking to the police but it looked like that plan wasn't going over too well. He stepped away form the wall and made his way to the desk beside the older hunter. He could try laying on the charm; that usually worked with the ladies. But then again, this woman looked pushed to her limit and she also had a tazer, not a winning combination. Dean was starting to reach his level of patience as well and was afraid that if he opened his mouth to say something it would end with him in a jail cell.

The folder sat on the woman's desk, filled to the brim with papers and photographs of the scene. On a small tag along the side, a black, handwritten notation labeled the folder 'Leslie Foster, 3/22/09'. The spine had been creased several times from being opened and closed on a regular basis and one corner had a faint coffee stain. Obviously this was the town's top priority right now and for good reason. Dean just wished he could see some of the photos in color. There was something odd about Stephen Laws' description of the scene, something just a bit off. However, his concern for his brother's wellbeing had temporarily overridden his instincts as a hunter and he hadn't caught it right away. Even the black an white photos that had been sent to them had appeared strange in some way Dean couldn't place right off hand. Maybe Bobby was right; maybe it was connected with Sam's disappearance.

Just as he was thinking of some way to swipe the folder off the desk without the officer noticing, two male officers burst in through the front door, dragging a flailing middle aged man between them. The man was fighting hard, his skinny frame jerking this way and that in a desperate effort to break free. He was mumbling hysterically, his struggling never ceasing. "Its comin'!!" He cried helplessly, his eyes wide and wild. "The end is comin'!! This is a sign!! Demons're walking the earth!!"

_If you only knew…_Dean thought but kept his mouth shut. The man's arm jerked free suddenly and he managed to strike one of the officers, gaining temporary release. The female officer jumped up from her chair and raced across the room to help her fellow officer, considering they were the only three in the building at the time. She grabbed the man's free arm and wrenched it behind his back, pinning him against the wall. However, the man wasn't finished and continued to kick and struggle violently, probably the result of some kind of drug. The female officer tried to grab her tazer but it was harder than it looked while trying to keep her weight pressed against the hysterical man.

Dean had never been so glad to see a lunatic in his entire life. With the officers completely engaged in trying to control the man, Dean quickly swiped the folder off of the desk and tucked it in his jacket. Hell, he had been wanted for murder about a year ago, what was a little felony theft going to hurt? He caught Bobby's eye and nodded, walking quickly to the back of the building and slipping through a back door that led to a parking lot full of police cars. Okay, so full wasn't the right word, there were only about three, but the parking lot was empty and their escape had been made. With the folder pressed against his side, Dean followed Bobby to his truck and slid into the front seat, the engine roaring to life before he had even closed the door.

The police station faded into the distance in the rearview mirror and Dean sighed, flipping open the folder. He thumbed through several police reports, witness statements, and other useless bits of information. He wanted the photographs. He'd hardly noticed Bobby had stopped the car behind a building labeled 'Post Office' and stepped out, walking around to the passenger side to get a better look.

A few glossy photos appeared toward the middle of the folder and Dean pulled them out, examining each one closely. On one page, a recent photo of Leslie had been attached followed by the date of her death and the cause. She had been a beautiful girl, a few years out of her teens, with dark hair and big smile. Various pictures from different angles had been taken of Leslie's body, her skin bloody and shredded from the patterns that had been carved into it. A close up photograph of the gaping wound in her throat appeared next and Dean winced unconsciously. He stared at the photograph carefully, his eyes narrowing sharply as he examined it. "This wasn't done by a knife…" He said finally, realization striking hard and fast.

"What?" Bobby looked at him curiously, raising one eyebrow.

"These marks." Dean said, indicating the symbols and patterns cutting into the girl's skin. "These were made by fingernails…" He looked carefully at the slash in Leslie's neck once more and frowned. The wound was jagged, the skin shredded and torn through the first few layers. That meant that she hadn't died right away, it had taken a while. He examined a picture taken of one of the marks on her arm and squinted at it. "And these aren't even real symbols…they're made up!" A sick feeling developed in the pit of his stomach. It had all been a trick, a false case to lure them here, and it had worked.

"It was a trap…" Dean muttered numbly, staring at the pictures. "Whoever did this knew we would come…they knew we would be sent here…" He clenched his fist, the skin still sore from its run in with the wall. "Sonuvabitch! They knew we were coming!" Sam had been the target all along, not Leslie; the poor girl had been used a pawn in someone else's game.

"Who?" Bobby asked, frowning as he came to the same conclusion. "Who would deliberately target you boys?"

Dean shrugged helplessly, letting the folder fall onto the floorboard of the truck. "I can think of about a hundred potential suspects…" He sighed, punching the seat angrily.

"Anyone in particular?" Bobby continued, urging him on. "Anyone who would hold a personal grudge against Sam?"

The younger man laughed bitterly. "Bobby, we're hunter's; personal grudges is what we do best." The words left his mouth and Dean shot up right, his back rigid and stiff.

"What?" Bobby asked, recognizing the look ."Who is it?"

Dean shook his head slowly. "Well, Gordon… he always had this personal vendetta against Sam but…"

"But what?"

"We killed him. We made sure of it…"

There was a slight hesitation in Dean's voice and Bobby's eyes narrowed. "What did you do, Dean?" He asked sternly, using his best John Winchester impression.

Dean eyes widened a little. "We didn't dispose of the body right…"

"What?!"

The younger man shook his head, staring at the ground as he recalled the last night he and Sam had faced off against Gordon. "Sam got to him before I could and managed to kill him. We were about to burn him but someone had called the cops and the next thing we knew the building was surrounded by flashing lights." He shook his head, raking a hand through his short hair. "We should have left him but…I don't know, we just grabbed him, threw his body in the trunk, and drove off. We found a landfill a couple miles out of town and buried him there…"

Bobby stared at him incredulously for a few seconds. "You buried him?!" He demanded, irritation and disbelief flashing through his eyes. "Dammit Dean!" Bobby palm hit the side of the truck and he sighed heavily. "You never bury a vampire! The damn things are worse than zombies when it comes to rising from the dead!"

"I know, Bobby!" Dean snapped back angrily. "It was stupid mistake!" Everything he'd ever learned about vampires insisted that, if decapitated, the head had to be destroyed separately from the body. Burning the corpse would work but the head had to either be burned in another location or some other method of disposal. Burying both the body and the head in the same hole was essentially the same as putting two magnets close to one another; they were eventually going to pull back together.

Dean sighed heavily, fists clenched at his sides. If Sam had been captured by Gordon, there was no telling what kind of condition his brother was in. He needed to find him. Now. "Okay, so if Gordon does have Sam he would need a place to keep him. A condemned house, a building, something."

Bobby thought for a second, glaring at the pictures briefly. He knew the area better than Dean did so he ran a mental check of all of the buildings in the area. His eyes widened little. "There's an old packaging warehouse on the outskirts of town. Its been abandoned for years and hardly anyone goes over there because there were rumors of lead poisoning among the workers."

Dean nodded and glared out at the last rays of the sun as it slipped behind the horizon. "We need to get to that warehouse."

* * *

**Yay!! They know where Sam is and are on the way to save him!! But will they get there in time?? Dun dun dun...!! See you in the next chapter :D**


	9. Choose

**Hello all!! Okay, I'm going to apologize in advance for the God-awful cliffhanger I'm leaving you with. My computer had been acting up recently so its going to be repaired this weekend but I don't have my story folder saved on my roommates computer or my parents so I'm kinda screwed out of writing for a few days. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and I promise to update as soon as possible!! :D**

* * *

"Time to wake up, Sammy." There was a sharp jerk on his injured shoulder and Sam gasped into consciousness, gritting his teeth painfully. He could feel a hot trickle of blood begin to ooze into the stiffened bandana that clung to his raw wound. The world swayed sickeningly around him and a convulsive shiver raced up his spine, a layer of goosebumps popping up on his skin. Gordon appeared in his line of vision and smiled darkly, stepping to the side and glancing to the front of the building. "Our guest of honor just arrived."

Sam blinked slowly, trying desperately to clear his eyes of the sparkling dots that seemed to burst on the corners of his vision. He was shivering violently; he didn't know why considering the thin layer of sweat that had broken out across his forehead within the past few hours. He could faintly hear the rumble of a truck somewhere outside but it sounded like the noise was being filtered through several layers of cotton. Sam wanted nothing more than to fall back into the deep depths of oblivion but the hand digging painfully into the wound on his should was forcing him to stay in agonizing consciousness.

Gordon glanced back at him and smirked same devilish smile he'd given him earlier. "Show time."

**OOOOO**

Dean was out of the truck before it had even come to a complete stop. His fingers brushed over the smooth metal of the gun he had clenched in his hand and he slammed the door shut behind him. The building was large, looming ominously in the darkness, its tall walls creeping and distorting with black shadows. The road outside was empty, one lone streetlight illuminating the gravel parking lot. A cool breeze whistled across the empty lot, rattling the chains on the door that stood in the front of the building. Right now, even that door was his enemy because it meant Sammy was somewhere behind it. Bobby had disappeared behind the side of the building, another gun tucked into his pocket. Bullets weren't their only course of action but it would work long enough for him to get in, get Sam, and get out. Dean planned to dismember Gordon very slowly so he was more than willing to come back and finish the job.

Dean pressed his back against the wall, gripping his gun tightly as he fished through his pocket for his lock picking tools. To his surprise, however, the padlock holding the chains together was open, hanging limply from the rusted links like an ornament. Dean swatted the open lock away from the chains and dropped it to the ground, kicking it away as he began to unwind the heavy chains. They tumbled to the ground it a heap, the clink of metal loud and obnoxious in his ears. He could smell blood, Sam's blood, and that only increased his agitation. Finally, the last of the chains were pulled from the door and Dean gripped the handle, jerking it open in one smooth motion.

At first he didn't see anything, the dim lights in the building making him squint into the darkness. The room was large and empty, high windows peering in through the walls near the ceiling. It felt like a prison yard. A sharp metallic scent nearly overwhelmed him, the smell of dried and fresh blood causing his own blood to boil. He stepped into the darkness, completely absorbed in his task of finding Sam.

There was a soft click somewhere inside the room and an overhead light flickered on, illuminating one area in the center. Dean felt his heart sink. Tied to a chair, an alarming amount of blood oozing from his shoulder and freckling his pale face, sat Sam. His little brother's head hung forward limply, his breathing coming out in short, shallow pants. He looked up as the light came on, squeezing his eyes shut tightly against the glare. "Oh God…Sammy…"

A flash of movement off to the side caught his eye for a split second and suddenly Gordon was there, standing next to Sam with one hand resting against his bleeding shoulder. From the look on Sam's face, the touch was anything but gentle. "Hello Dean." He greeted casually, a cold smile falling across his lips.

In a flash, Dean had the gun pointed at the former hunter, his eyes narrowing murderously. "Get the fuck away from my brother." He growled, the cocking of the gun echoing in the empty room.

Gordon's demeanor never changed and he continued to smile easily. "Sorry Dean, but you and I both know that this," He pointed to Sam who was barely holding onto consciousness and looked back at Dean. "Is not your brother anymore. He's a demon, a monster; nothing more."

Dean scoffed in disbelief and stepped closer. "You're one to talk, fangy." He leveled the gun at Gordon's chest and glared. "I'm not going to tell you again. Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. My. Brother."

The former hunter laughed quietly and stepped away from the chair, peering up at the ceiling as if the answers were somehow written up there. "See, now this is where we have a problem." He turned to Dean and opened his arms, showing that he had no weapons on him. "You found Sam; good for you. But I'm afraid I can't let you take him away alive. The only way your "brother" is leaving this room is in a body bag."

"I'll put a bullet between your eyes before I let you touch him again." Dean snarled, the gun moving up slightly to make his point.

Gordon stopped and looked down the barrel. "Oh don't worry, Dean. I'm not going to be the one the kill him. You are."

The younger man blinked for a second, taken aback by the explanation. "Yeah, good luck with that."

Gordon shrugged carelessly and walked over to the chair. "I'm giving you one last chance to redeem yourself here, Dean. Be a hunter, kill the demon the way you're supposed to." He gripped a handful of Sam's hair and jerked his head up, a soft groan escaping the younger man's mouth. "This may look like Sam, and you want it to be Sam, but you know deep down that its not. The person sitting in this chair is a demon, an abomination to the world." He straightened his posture, glaring darkly at Dean. "This is your last chance, Dean. Either you kill Sam, take his life in order to prove yourself and possibly save his soul from the same damnation you suffered, or I will."

Dean's gun faltered for a split second, his eyes widening a little. "You can't be serious…"

"I'm more serious than I've ever been." Gordon assured, gripping Sam by the throat hard enough to make him cough weakly. "I'm faster than you, Dean. If you hesitate any longer, I'll rip his throat out myself and let you watch as he bleeds out right in front of you."

The younger man shook his head slightly, his hand trembling a little. It was a lose-lose situation; no matter what he ended up decided, Sam was going to die. He was going to lose him again and this time for good. The thought was more than he could bare, now that he had found him again. He was supposed to protect Sammy no matter what, he'd promised their father that he would. So what if protecting him meant killing him before someone else could? He never wanted to be put in the position even though he had been aware of the possibility. He just hoped it would never come. He was going to have to kill his baby brother… His hands shook and Gordon's grip tightened. "Choose Dean." Gordon growled, his voice echoing low and dangerous across the room. "Because I'm about to choose for you."

Sam blinked wearily as the conversation wore on, his eyes locking briefly on the form of his brother. "Dean…" He breathed; the name felt like the most important thing in the world for him. He couldn't be sure if it was a dream or not but now it didn't matter; even if it were a cruel hallucination, if Dean was the last thing Sam ever saw he could die happy. There was another jerk against his injured body and he winced, squeezing his eyes closed again.

Dean glared savagely at the vampire, wanting nothing more than to rip him limb from limb. But if he shot Gordon right now, the rebound would be instantaneous and Sam's life would be over before he could blink. There was no other option. The air felt heavy, a brick of lead forming in his chest as he raised his gun once more. "God…I'm so sorry Sammy…." He whispered brokenly, tears prickling in the backs of his eyes. He only had one shot at this, only one chance to make it as painless as possible. If he missed…he couldn't even think about if he missed. Taking a slow, shaky breath, his finger pressing nervously against the trigger, Dean aimed his gun directly at his baby brother and fired.

* * *

**Whahaha!! Keeps you on the edge of your seat, huh?? *runs like hell from angry readers* I'm sorry!! I'll update soon, I swear!! :D**


	10. Rescue?

**Yay!! I turned 21 today! :D Anyway...lol so I seriously threatened my computer guy within an inch of his life earlier today if he didn't have my computer fixed O.o Luckily he did so I was able to finish this chapter!! Yay!! Hope you all like it!!**

* * *

Sam's head snapped backwards as the bullet struck him, the impact of the bullet causing the chair to rock back and clatter to the ground. The chair shifted slightly as it fell, causing Sam to land on his side, dark hair falling across his closed eyes. For a few seconds, no sound could be heard in the empty room save for the soft rattle of the gun that trembled in Dean's clenched fist.

Gordon stepped away from Sam's body with a look of surprised yet impressed satisfaction. He smirked slightly and shrugged. "See, that wasn't so hard was it?" He said, stepping over Sam's bound ankles and walking a little toward Dean. "To be honest, for a second there I didn't think you were going to-" Gordon stopped as a bullet collided with his sternum causing him to stumble a little. He looked up as Dean prepared to fire again and grinned darkly, his eyes glowing crimson in the dim light. "You really want to do this now?" He asked, straightening as the bullet wound slowly began to close, the muscle and tissue stitching itself back together carefully.

Dean glared at him, his green eyes murderous with a fury he had never known. Even during his time in Hell, when rage was all he knew, nothing could compare to the blinding, animalistic fury that bubbled just beneath the surface. He had shot his own brother, he had shot Sam, and now Gordon was going to pay for everything he had ever done to him.

Gordon straightened even more, rolling his shoulders back as he reached his full height. "Alright Dean," He began, cracking his knuckles absently. "I had planned to let you walk away from here but now I'm afraid I can't let you do that."

Dean didn't answer and simply aimed his gun, firing again. What should have been a kill shot was met with nothing but air, an empty space marking the place where Gordon had been standing. The gun was suddenly knocked from his hand, skidding across the smooth concrete and bouncing off the wall. A punch he didn't even see connected with his jaw and Dean found himself sprawled on his back, wincing in surprise.

The former hunter appeared a split second later, glaring down at him with a look of disdain. "Sorry Dean," He said, stepping forward and grabbing Dean by the collar of his shirt. "You Winchester's always were a troublesome bunch." Gordon muttered, heaving Dean to his feet and tossing him easily across the room.

Dean's back collided with a wall and he gasped, coughing as the air forcefully left his lungs. He pulled himself up and glanced across the room to where Gordon had been. The vampire was nowhere in sight but his gun was still an unfortunate distance away. The gun only had a few bullets though, just enough to incapacitate him long enough to rescue Sam. _Lot of good that plan did,_ he thought bitterly, swiping his sleeve across his now bleeding lip. And just where the hell was Bobby?

Gordon appeared in front of him once again and Dean had just enough time to avoid another punch that surely would have broken something. He dodged to the side and kicked out, catching Gordon's leg and knocking him to the ground. Before the former hunter could regain his composure, Dean was on him, punching as hard as he possibly could at every body part available to him. In one swift motion, Gordon was back on his feet and Dean was skidding across the ground once more, back colliding with the wall. He jumped up again and dodged another attack, grabbing Gordon's wrist and snapping it easily.

The vampire growled and swung his other hand at him but Dean managed to avoid the second assault and followed with a few blows of his own. Gordon stumbled back, blood oozing from his nose and lip, a sadistic smile curling his lips just enough to show the gleaming fangs behind them. "You've gotten faster, Dean…"

"And you've gotten careless…" Dean growled, lunging forward and slamming Gordon into the wall behind him. The rusted solidity of an pipe in the wall protruded just above Gordon's eye, the metal gleaming and slick with dark blood. Gordon convulsed once before his body became limp, his crimson-ringed eyes staring blindly into nothing. Blood oozed from his nose and ears, forming small puddles on the dusty concrete below.

Dean stumbled back, wiping his lip on his sleeve once more. He glared hatefully at the impaled body of the former hunter and snarled murderously. Tossing aside what little restrain the had left, Dean slammed his fist painfully into the vampire's jaw, the impact hard enough to make his already bruised knuckles crack. The edges of his vision became red and Dean could think of nothing he wanted more than to rip Gordon apart, piece by piece. However, his attention was drawn elsewhere and he turned, making his way back over to his lifeless brother.

Blood had soaked through the back of Sam's shirt, staining his back all the way down to the waistband of his jeans. His hands were swollen and discolored from being tied behind his back for too long and his ankles were probably no better off. All in all, Sam looked like hell.

Dean skidded to his knees next to his brother and pressed his fingers to the side of Sam's throat, sighing in relief as he felt a weak yet detectable pulse. Sam moaned weakly under his touch and Dean felt a sad smile tug at his lips; it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. "Thank God…" he whispered to himself, fishing a pocket knife out of his back pocket and flicking it open. "Don't worry, kiddo. I gotcha…" In one fluid motion, he had sliced through the ropes that restrained his brother and pulled them away. Sam's arms fell limply to his sides. Ignoring the startling amount of blood for the time being, Dean gathered his injured little brother in his arms and cradled him carefully, content to just hold Sam in his arms for the moment.

Sam moaned again, wincing at the jostling touch. A thin graze marred his cheekbone, the skin raw and oozing from the uncomfortably close contact with a bullet. It had been a tricky shot, one Dean had dreaded he would miss. Thankfully, years of training and prowess with a firearm had made his aim all but perfect in situations this important. "I gotcha Sammy…" He whispered softly, pressing a kiss to his little brother's temple. "You're safe…I gotcha…"

The back door to the warehouse opened just then and Bobby appeared, his clothes and hair disheveled from the effort it had taken to get in in the first place. He smelled like gasoline. Seeing the impaled vampire against the wall and Dean cradling a limp Sam made Bobby shake his head slowly. For a second he feared the worst, the night at Cold Oak replaying in his mind all too soon. But by the way Dean was holding Sam and speaking softly to him, almost like a reassurance, made his fears abate slightly. Ignoring the pinned vampire, Bobby jogged over to the boys' side and dropped to his knees as well. He took in Sam's injuries and clicked his tongue, concern etched across his face. "Jesus…what the hell happened…?" He asked to no one in particular.

"I shot him…" Dean whispered, cradling Sam a little closer as he spoke as if it would take away what he had said.

"What?" Bobby blinked in confusion and noticed the thin abrasion across Sam's cheek.

"I shot Sam…"

The older man's eyes widened in realization and he shook his head in disbelief. "What the hell would you do that?!" He demanded, glaring between Dean and Sam.

Dean took a slow breath and glanced back Gordon's pinned corpse, a look of pure hatred causing his eyes to narrow. "Because I knew Gordon wouldn't miss…"

* * *

**You guys didn't think I would actually kill Sam, right?? Hehe, I've tried character death before and found out I'm terrible at it. Not only that but Sam's my favorite character and I would cry for weeks if I had to kill him. So yay, Sam is saved!! Or is he?? I have several more plans in store for him, poor kid isn't quite out of the woods yet :D See you in the next chapter!!**


	11. Closure

**Okay, there are a few graphic descriptions in this chapter so I'll just warn you ahead of time so it won't be so bad =) It shouldn't be anything too terrible though! Hope you all enjoy it!! :D**

* * *

As carefully as he possibly could and with Bobby's help, Dean managed to scoop Sam into his arms and carry him to the door. He walked slowly, trying to be as gentle as possible with his unconscious charge. Dean could feel Sam's shoulder blades through his back and was once again reminded how much weight his brother had lost in the past year. It made his heart clench in his chest, knowing he was most of the reason for it.

Just as they made it to the door and were pushing it open, something tumbled out of Sam's pocket and *clinked* to the smooth concrete below. Dean heard it and tried to glance down but gave up as his grip on his little brother faltered slightly. _Probably nothing,_ he thought, readjusting his hold and pushing against the door with his shoulder. He stumbled out onto the gravel driveway and made his way to the truck, uncomfortably aware of the warm blood that continued to soak through the sleeve of his jacket.

Bobby opened the door to the truck and stepped to the side so Dean could lay Sam across the seat. The younger man's face was shockingly pale, dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes. Dried blood ran down the side of his neck, a sharp contrast to the sickly color of his skin and the fresher blood that had soaked through the bandage around his shoulder. His breathing was shallow and uneven, the sound harsh in the silence of the parking lot. Dean stripped off his jacket and laid it across Sam's chest, tucking it around him in a vain attempt to keep him a little warmer.

"Dean, you take care of your brother, alright? I'll go deal with the vampire." Bobby said, stepping away from the door of the truck and grabbing a lighter out of his pocket.

"I'm coming with you." Dean mumbled, absently brushing a strand of hair from Sam's face.

"No, you need to stay here and-"

"Bobby." Dean voice cut off any room for argument. "I want to see that bastard burn until there's nothing left. I want to make sure he can never, ever hurt my brother again." The words were acidic, full of resentment and hatred, and Dean could barely control the urge to run back into the building and rip Gordon's head off with his bare hands.

Bobby wanted to protest again, insist that Dean stay with Sam, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. As much as he may have wanted to stay with his little brother, Dean needed the finality of seeing Gordon completely destroyed. "Alright, but as soon as it's done I want you to come back here. No arguments. Agreed?"

Dean nodded numbly, his gaze lingering on Sam for a split second before he turned. They walked silently back to the building, completely focused on the task at hand. Something glinted in the silver moonlight as they crossed the threshold and Dean stopped, looking down to see what it was. His talisman gleamed dully on the smooth concrete, the chain still snapped and broken from when he'd ripped it off his neck. Another wave of guilt swept through him as he knelt to pick it, his fingers brushing lightly over the piece. "God Sammy…" He whispered, picking up the talisman and glancing back to the truck. Even after all of the terrible things he'd said, even after he'd told Sam he wished he never made the deal, Sam had kept his talisman. He kept it so he could hold onto his brother, even if it was just a faint objectification. Dean had never felt worse in his life. He straightened slowly, stiffly, and put the talisman in his pocket. It was time to finish this.

Bobby had already pried Gordon off the wall, a gaping hole in his forehead from where the pipe had impaled him. Thick, black blood had streaked his face and head, running down into a dark puddle on the floor. Gordon had been dropped unceremoniously to the floor and Bobby was digging into his back pocket for a knife of some sort.

Dean approached the body, glaring down as him with disgust. "Let me do it." He muttered quietly, a hunting knife already slipping out of its sheath and gripped in his hand. Bobby stepped away and Dean dropped to his knees, plunging the knife into Gordon's throat and sawing away at the tissue. Thick blood spurted from the wound, staining his sleeves and hands, but Dean didn't care. His hand jerked and pulled as the blade sliced through bone and tendon. With a wet snap, the last sinew was severed and Gordon's head fell to the side, bodiless. Dean glared at the severed head, his anger increasing with each passing second. There were so many things he wanted to do to it; gouge the eyes out, cut out the tongue, it didn't matter, he just wanted to cause as much damage as possible.

"Dean." Bobby's voice drew him out of his hate-filled reverie and he looked up. The older man glanced at the disembodied head and nodded. "Come on son, let's destroy this bastard once and for all."

Despite all of the horrible things Dean still had in mind for Gordon's corpse, the thought of Sam still alone and injured in the car caused him to abandon them and nod. He stood slowly, grabbing the body by the shirt and dragging it to the back door. Bobby grabbed the head and followed along behind him, walking into the parking lot behind the building.

An empty dumpster had been pushed up against the back wall of the building, its lid open and gaping. The entire thing smelled like it had been soaked in gasoline. With a little help, Dean tossed the former hunter's body into the dumpster and stepped back as Bobby came up behind him. The older man mumbled something in Latin and struck a match, tossing it carelessly into the metal container. Almost instantly, flames engulfed the inside of the dumpster, taking Gordon's body with them.

Still holding the head, Bobby walked over to an empty oil drum next to the dumpster and dropped it inside. Once again, he mumbled something in Latin and tossed a match into the drum. Another burst of flames accompanied the already roaring fire next to it and the air filled with the sickening smell of burning flesh.

For a second, Dean waited tensely, holding a breath in the back of his throat. He was nearly convinced the body would spring from the dumpster and make one last attempt at a fight but it didn't; oily black smoke was the only thing that came from the two containers. Bobby placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded back toward the truck. "Go take care of Sammy," He said, looking back at the dumpster. "I'll keep an eye on this."

Dean nodded and, taking one last look at the charring corpse, made his way back to the truck. The gravel crunched loudly beneath his feet but he barely noticed it; his only concern now was Sam. The gunshot wound was obvious but there was no telling how much more damage had been done while he was held captive. The thought made his skin crawl.

Dean opened the door and slid onto the seat next to Sam, cradling his head in his lap and pressing his hands over the wound. There was a very faint moan from Sam at the sudden pressure but it quickly faded. "Shh, Sammy…" Dean whispered, moving his less bloody hand and carding his fingers through his brother's hair. "You're safe…I'm right here…"

For several minutes, Dean couldn't think of anything but the sound of his brother's voice, the look on his face that night. It made him sick but he was determined to make it right; he was determined to fix things. "God…I was such and asshole to you Sammy…" He whispered, shaking his head slowly. "I'm going to fix this, I swear…just please hang on for me little brother…" Nothing but silence filled the truck, as was to be expected, but still it was a little disappointing. Dean straightened a little and listened closer. Something was wrong; it was far too quiet.

"Sam…?" The older man shook him gently, praying for any kind of response. Getting nothing, Dean shifted his position and leaned over, listening carefully. Sam wasn't breathing.

* * *

**Eeek O.o Another really terrible cliffhanger I know but I should be able to have the next chapter up either Friday night or Saturday. I wanted to write it sooner but I have three tests this week and my time is kinda limited for the moment. I will update as soon as possible though, I promise!!**


	12. On Our Own

**Hiya!! Sooo this chapter is a little shorter than the others but the next one should be much longer So sorry about the last chapter but I hope I can make up for it with this one :D Or maybe not...Lol, either way I hope you enjoy it!!**

**Quick Note: Okay, if you've ever read any of my previous, non-Supernatural stories, you'll know I have this thing about hospitals. It's not that I find them creepy or depressing or anything like that but I simply find them waaaay too convenient. Hospitals=convenient=easy solution=shuuuuun... I like to have my characters work things out for themselves with as little outside interference as possible :D Its more interesting that way and a little bit more intense so I like to bend the rules a little bit *grin* Hell, I could have a character be missing a major limb (not that I would) and I would still be hard pressed to send them to a hospital O.o So, just for future reference, unless someones head has literally fallen off, expect a storm or a car breaking down or a hospital that's about 84 miles away in my fics ;p Enjoy!!**

* * *

"Shit!" Dean hissed, pulling away quickly and laying his brother flat across the seat. He knealt next to Sam on the floorboards and pressed his fingers to the side of his throat, praying silently as he did._ Please Sammy...please don't do this..._ There was still a pulse but it was growing weaker and fainter with every passing second.

He straightened and tilted Sam's head back, listening carefully. Still nothing. "You don't get to give up yet, dammit..." Dean muttered, closing his mouth over his brother's and blowing a slow, full breath into his lungs. He could see Sam's chest rise slowly out of the corner of his eye and a small flash of relief rushed through him; at least it was working. The seconds past by agonizingly, each assisted breath meaning another weakened heartbeat and another step closer to that perilous edge.

"Please Sammy..." Dean whispered in between breaths, pausing to check his pulse. The rhythm was sluggish, uneven. "You can't give up yet..." Another breath, another slow rise of his little brother's chest. "Don't leave me Sammy..." _Please, Sam...I need you...please come back...breathe Sam...please wake up...come on little brother..._

As if responding to his older brother's silent pleas, Sam suddenly convulsed and he coughed raggedly, the movement shaking his entire body. He gritted his teeth in agony as the wound in his shoulder opened again and fresh blood began to ooze from the raw injury. He coughed again and winced as something slid behind his shoulders, lifting him up just enough so htat it was easier to breathe. Each inhale burned and each exhale throbbed and he simply couldn't understand why his body insisted on sticking around for something so tormenting. He back was resting against something solid and warm and he could hear a slight hitching sound from somewhere up above. He blinked slowly, his eyes resting on the ceiling of a familiar truck and an even more familiar jaw line. "De...an..." It hurt to talk and the name sounded harsh as he said it. Something warm dripped onto his forehead and he made a very slight face; facial expressions required energy and that was something Sam just didn't possess at the moment.

"Jesus Christ Sam..." His older brother mumbled behind him, cradling him gently against his chest. "Don't you ever do that again..." His voice broke and Sam realized what he'd felt had been tears. Dean's jacket (his favorite jacket) had been wrapped around him and there was a grimace of guilt as Sam could feel his blood soaking through the lining. Strong arms were wrapped across his chest, holding him protectively, and Sam suddenly felt like he was five years old again. The thought made him sad.

"Don't you ever do that again..." Dean whispered again, rocking slightly and pressing his cheek against the top of Sam's head. Even through the heavy, metallic tang of blood and dirt that clung to his skin, Dean could smell the cheap hotel shampoo in Sam's hair. It was surreal, almost like disbelief, as Dean realized he hadn't been this close to his little brother in months. Nothing but absolutely necessary contact, nothing but touches that were specifically aimed at t a wound or covering an injury. They shouldn't have fallen apart like this...it never should have gotten this bad..."God Sam...I'm so sorry..."

The younger man shook his head weakly, his eyes glassy and somewhat sad. "You... shouldn't have...come..." He whispered, his fingers clenching slightly. "Should...have let me...die..."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing and his stomach flipped sharply. "What?!" He demanded, fighting the urge to shake his little brother senseless. "How can you say that, Sam?! Why the fuck would you think I would ever leave you to die?!" The tears were angry now and fell without his consent or control.

"Not...worth it..." Sam gasped, wincing as a shudder passed through him. The edges of his vision were growing dark and it was becoming increasingly harder to hear much of a choice, consciousness abandoned him once more and he slumped back against his brother.

For a split second, Dean panicked, his blood freezing in his veins. This was too familiar, too soon, he couldn't loose Sam again. Not now! But the shallow, ragged breaths coming from the unconscious young man in his arms helped abate any lingering fears of Sam's death and Dean sighed heavily. "Jesus Sammy..." He murmured, shaking his head as a few more tears traced their way down his face. "You're always worth it..." Guilt crept into his heart and he closed his eyes tightly. "And its my fault you think otherwise..."

The inside of the car began to smell like the bitter black smoke from around the building and Dean vaguely wondered how much longer Bobby was planning on staying over there. They needed to get Sam to a hospital and fast...

The younger man shivered suddenly, his face remaining lax and expressionless as the tremors rocked his body. Dean frowned and pressed his palm to Sam's cheek, his concern only increasing as he felt the cool, clamminess of his skin. His pulse had become slightly more rapid, the rhythm quick and bounding beneath Dean's fingertips. He cursed softly, readjusting his grip on his little brother. Sam was going into shock.

The driver's side door was jerked open and Bobby slid into the front seat, eyeing the younger man worriedly. "How is he?"

Dean shook his head grimly, never taking his eyes off his little brother. "Bobby, we need to get him to a hospital. Now." He glanced to the older hunter, the concern evident in his green eyes. "He stopped breathing for a minute..."

"Shit." Bobby muttered, starting the truck with a jerk of the keys and shifting into reverse. "Keep him warm until we get back to the hotel." He nodded toward Sam and backed out of the parking lot.

"Hotel? No, Bobby, we need to go to a hospital now! Sam's going to die!" Dean snapped, looking in disbelief between Sam and Bobby.

"Dean, the nearest hospital is over fifty miles away..." Bobby kept his voice even but he was barely able to control the fear creeping in behind it. "If we try to go right now, Sam may not survive the trip. Calling an ambulance would be an hour's drive one way and then back..." He paused, letting the words sink in. "Now, I know you boys have a first aid kit somewhere in your room and I have a few things in my truck so its going to have to work for the time being." The older hunter shook his head slowly and sighed. "Son, I'm sorry but we're on our own until Sam is a little more stable..."

Dean could feel his hands trembling as the continued to press down over the wound. "But...what if-?....he could...." The words wouldn't come out and Dean had to swallow thickly as he even thought about them. He's gotten Sam back but now he may loose him anyway? God, why was lady luck such a fucking bitch?! Still, they had no other options and Dean knew it. Transporting Sam right now could ultimately mean his death...there was no doubt about it. With a shaky, resigned breath, Dean nodded and looked at the older man. "Alright Bobby...let's get back to the hotel..."

* * *

**Yay!! Sam's breathing again and everything is wonderful in the world!! Or is it?? Lol sorry but you know I can't give up on him that easily :P**


	13. Repairs

**Yay!! Sam's actually getting a little bit of help now!! Poor guy O.o...that's why ya'll are reading it though, right?? Hehe, hope you enjoy!!**

**Quick Note: I've never had to get stitches before so if anything seems off about the suture scene, just (politely) let me know, okay?? :D**

* * *

The ride back to the hotel seemed to take hours in Dean's mind. In reality, it was probably all of ten minutes, but with a critically injured little brother sprawled lifelessly across your lap, time tends to slip by a little slower. Sam had stopped shivering but he was still far too pale for Dean's comfort and his head lolled to the side limply. "Just hang on Sammy…" Dean whispered repeatedly, using his thumb to brush away a few flecks of dried blood from the younger man's face. "We'll get you fixed up…just hang on for me, kiddo…"

The flickering neon sign had never been a more welcome sight as Bobby's truck turned into the rough, uneven parking lot. The truck bounced along the unavoidable potholes with enough force to rock all of the occupants within the cab. Dean winced, tightening his grip on Sam and holding him securely against his chest. "Jesus Bobby," He hissed as they hit a hole that could have easily fit in at the Grand Canyon. "Did we have to hit every hole in the lot?!"

Bobby rolled his eyes and swung the truck into the parking spot closest to the boy's room. "Quit your bitchin' and help me get him inside." With very little complaint from his part, Dean nudged the truck door open with his foot and waited for Bobby to come around to the other side of the truck. The older man grabbed Sam's legs, tucking them firmly against his sides and slowly backed away from the truck as Dean slid out of the seat. He had looped his arms beneath his brother's and kept his back pressed against his chest so he was carrying most of the weight.

The made their way to the door, carefully stepping past a few renegade potholes, and paused outside. "Bobby, reach into my back pocket and get the key." Dean said, shifting his weight a little so he was holding Sam a little more comfortably.

"What about-?"

"It's okay," Dean said with a nod, shifting once again and slipping one arm beneath Sam's knees where Bobby's hands had just been. "I got him…" He adjusted his brother gently, completely unnerved by how limp he was in his arms. This was still far too familiar…

Bobby retrieved the key from Dean's pocket and opened the door quickly, stepping to the side as Dean stepped inside past him. He walked over to the bed closest to the wall and carefully laid Sam out across the blankets. The hotel staff was going to have a field day when the saw the bloody linens but there wasn't much he could do about that right now. He pulled the jacket away and dropped it to the ground, wincing as the jacket made a wet slap as it hit the carpet. Bobby stepped away from the door and began to rummage around in the floorboards of his truck, producing a weathered, canvas medical bag and returning to the room. He closed the door softly behind him and Dean could hear the dead bolt sliding into place. "You didn't touch the wound, did you?" Bobby asked, nodding to Gordon's blood that still coated his arms, and dropping the canvas bag on the other bed.

Dean shook his head slowly and stood, hesitant to leave his brother's side. "No…I never touched it. The jacket was covering him the entire time." He stepped over said jacket and made his way to the tiny bathroom on the other side of the room. The water was cold and smelled a little bit like rust but that might have been the blood. Dean scrubbed his hands and arms with the bar of soap next to the sink and poured rubbing alcohol over them once he was done. Satisfied that the last of the vampire blood was gone, he returned to the bed, kneeling next to Sam slowly.

The shoulder wound was an obvious starting point so Dean carefully began to unwrap the "bandage" that had been tied around Sam's shoulder. He cursed silently as a fresh trickle of blood began to ooze from the raw wound once the bandage was removed, a loose scab pulling away with the stiff material. The wound sat just below his collarbone, barely bigger than a nickel, and the bullet had gone straight through instead of bouncing around and causing a helluva lot more damage than it had already. Dean was silently grateful for that and hated to admit it but he was glad Gordon had wrapped the wound. If he hadn't, Sam surely would have bled to death.

The fabric from Sam's shirt clung to the wound in the dried blood and it was pretty obvious the shirt couldn't be saved. Taking that into consideration, Dean reached into the first aid kit on the floor next to him and fished out a pair of scissors kept for just such occasions. Every once in a while, when physically taking clothes off seemed almost impossible, a good pair of scissors were more valuable than gold. Dean cut the front of the shirt up the middle and carefully sliced through the seams in the sleeves, peeling the ruined fabric away and dropping it to a heap on the floor. Blood covered the whole right side of Sam's chest, smeared and dried on to his skin, anything else appeared pale and ashen Dean swallowed heavily; Sam should never look like this. Ever.

Bobby appeared next to him a few seconds with a few wash cloths and a Styrofoam container filled with hot water from the sink. Knowing full well the pain it would cause, Dean hesitated for a second before he dipped a wash cloth in the water and began to gently but thoroughly scrub the wound. Sam's face contorted in agony and, if possible, he paled even more. He moaned weakly, his eyes squeezing shut tightly as the abrasive fabric scrubbed at the raw injury. Dean stopped, his hands trembling and face masked in guilt. "Jesus…I'm so sorry Sam…" He whispered to his fitful little brother. "I'm so sorry…"

Bobby patted him on the shoulder gently and took the wash cloth from him. "Dean, I'll clean and stitch the wound if you'll hold Sam still for me. Think you can do that, son?" The horrified look on Dean's face told him everything he needed to know. It was heartbreaking, having to hurt his already injured little brother even more, but the wound needed to be cleaned or else their list of problems would only increase. Finally, Dean managed a nod and moved onto the bed, scooping Sam into his arms and holding him against his chest. The younger man's head lolled against his older brother's shoulder, his breathing shallow and labored. Dean chewed anxiously on his lower lip, running his hand through Sam's hair gently. He looked at Bobby and nodded. "Okay…"

The older hunter nodded in return and picked up where Dean left off, scrubbing the wound and the surrounding areas carefully in an effort to remove the dried blood. Sam's body stiffened sharply and the muscles in his back went rigid, his breathing hitching a little. "Shh, Sammy…" Dean soothed quietly, rubbing his uninjured arm with one hand and carding the other through his brother's damp hair. "I gotcha Sam…I gotcha…Just hang on Sammy…"

Once the wound had been cleaned to Bobby's satisfaction, he reached into the canvas bag and pulled out a small, sterile package. He looked at Dean carefully as he opened the package and pulled out the sutures. "I need you to hold him tight now." He said evenly, waiting for Dean's response before he did anything else. Between the three of them, stitches were not uncommon and both Dean and Sam had learned how to do them at an early age. Still, it was never an enjoyable task and even with the lidocaine it was still going to hurt like hell…

Dean nodded slowly, tightening his grip just a little. "Okay, I have him…"

Bobby moved a little closer to the unconscious young man and rested his hand next to the wound. "I'm sorry Sammy, but we need to do this." He whispered as he slipped the needle into the bruised skin. He waited a few seconds for the anesthetic to kick in before he began to stitch the wound closed.

Dean tightened his hold gently as Sam began to shift and arch in pain as the jagged edges of the wound were pulled shut. "Shh…I gotcha Sammy…I'm right here…" He could feel the younger man's heartbeat through his back and each beat brought on a fresh wave of blood from the exit wound in his back. The bullet hadn't hit anything lethal but the blood loss certainly wasn't helping anything. "Shh…I gotcha…"

"Okay, think you can lift him up a little?" Bobby asked as he finished with the wound in front.

Dean nodded and shifted, lifting Sam enough so that the back of his shoulder was visible. Blood had soaked through Dean's shirt but he didn't care. He moved slowly until he was sitting in front of Sam, propping his little brother against his chest as the older hunter began to stitch the exit wound closed. Dean could feel the same muscle tension from Sam as the wound closed and he closed his eyes tightly. "God…I'm so sorry Sammy…"

Bobby finished with the stitches and nodded to Dean. "That should hold for now." He said, reaching into the canvas bag once again and pulling out a few gauze pads. He wrapped the wounds tightly and taped the gauze to the bruised skin. Now that the most critical wound was taken care of, the others could be tended to. Dean grabbed a clean wash cloth from the pile and dipped it in the reddish water, dabbing gently at the gash behind Sam's ear. It wasn't deep; enough to give him a pretty bad headache but nothing too serious. The broken fingers and wrist were easy enough to set, the swelling beginning to recede a little already. Once all of the wounds and injuries had been taken care of, Dean and Bobby carefully moved Sam to the other bed and pulled the blankets up around his shoulders. His breathing was slow and shallow but a little more even than it had been earlier. For several minutes, Dean could do nothing but stare at his little brother, his hand resting over his brother's heart.

"Dean."

The hunter looked up at his name, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"He'll be alright…" The words tried to sound reassuring but they felt unsure. The younger man simply nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from his brother. With a soft sigh, Bobby grabbed a free chair and pulled it up next to the bed. Neither of them were going anywhere anytime soon.

* * *

**Poor Sam, even when he's getting helped he's being hurt O.o Oh well, more fluff and drama to come!! :D**


	14. Super Juice

**Hello all!! Sorry for the wait, finals are coming up so its been a little hectic O.o Okay, so the Super Juice idea once again came from the little boy that I babysit. He got a stomach virus one time and the only way we could get him to drink anything was to tell him it would give him super powers. Seriously, tell a five year old that juice will give him super powers and he'll down the whole bottle O.o Anyway, hope you all like it!! :D**

* * *

"We need to wake him up."

Dean looked up as Bobby spoke, his eyes readjusting to the man standing a few feet away. He'd been so lost in thought, staring at Sam, that he'd nearly forgotten the older hunter was still in the room. "What? Why?"

Bobby stepped a little closer, his eyes sweeping over Sam's lax expression. "He's lost a lot of blood, Dean. If we don't get some kind of fluid replacement going on, his body will dehydrate and trust me, that's not something Sam can handle right now." He rubbed the back of his neck slightly, glancing to the window. It was late and the hospital was no closer in the dark. The best they could do right now was try to help Sam as much as they could. He hated to admit it, and would never say so to Dean, but Bobby wasn't sure it was enough. He hated to wake Sam up, knowing full well the injured young man needed all the rest he could get for his body to recover but dehydration would make things much worse than they already were.

Dean seemed hesitant to wake his brother as well but he knew Bobby had a point. He sighed and nodded slowly, sliding onto the bed next to Sam. "Alright, see if you can find some water from a vending machine or something. The tap water in this place smells like lake water."

Bobby flashed him a half smile and nodded, disappearing from the room.

Being mindful of his injuries, Dean very carefully scooped Sam into his arms and leaned him back against his chest. Sam winced a little as the movements jostled him into semi-consciousness, the room spinning sickeningly above him.

"Hey Sammy…you with me kiddo?" Dean asked, looking down to see his little brother's eyes flicker open briefly.

There was a long pause before Sam managed the energy to speak. "D'n…?"

The older man smiled sadly and nodded, stroking his brother's hair slowly. "Yeah buddy, it's me…" He shifted a little so Sam was leaning a little more comfortably against him. "I need you stay awake for me for just a little bit, okay Sam?" He pulled the stiff hotel blankets up a little higher as a layer of goose bumps prickled Sam's arms. "Think you can do that?"

Another long pause filled the room; so long in fact that Dean thought Sam may have slipped back into unconsciousness. However, after a few more seconds of silence, Sam managed a nod and a breathy, "Okay" before he slumped back against his brother.

Dean smiled and rubbed his arms gently, trying not to agitate the injuries further. "That's my boy…" They sat in silence for a few more seconds before Bobby returned, a bottle of blue Gatorade in one hand.

"This was the only thing they had that wasn't carbonated." He explained, setting the bottle on the table and opening it quickly. The contents were cool at best due to the crappy hotel vending machines but considering the condition of the person it was going to it would be alright. Bobby snagged a paper cup from the bedside table and poured a little bit of the blue juice into it. "Here, see if he can drink a little bit of this."

Dean took the cup offered to him and smiled faintly. "Hmm...super juice…" He muttered softly, glancing into the cup.

"What?"

"Nothing." The memory was fleeting, barely longer than a second, but Dean could remember the last time he had to force feed Sam Gatorade to make sure he didn't get dehydrated. It wasn't hard actually; convince a five-year-old that blue Gatorade had the ability to give you superpowers and he was happy. It was easy because Dean no longer had to fight with Sam to drink enough fluids when he had the flu and it was also kind of funny to see him stumbling around in the pillow case he used for a cape. Granted, Sam's only super powers that night turned out to be the ability fall asleep on any given flat surface and the power to sneeze so hard it knocked him over. But, it kept him hydrated for the time being and that's really all that mattered. Now it looked like the story was going to come in handy again.

"Hey Sammy…" Dean said, rubbing his brother's arm gently. "I need you to drink this for me, okay? Its super juice…" He shifted just enough so that Sam was sitting up a little higher. The younger man made a soft sound in the back of his throat and winced a little. He could tell Sam was quickly losing his battle with consciousness so he raised the paper cup to his lips. "Slow…" He instructed softly as he tipped the cup just enough so that the juice reached the rim.

Sam managed to take a small sip of the offered drink and make a slight face as the sugary liquid traveled down his throat. He paused, closing his eyes against the wave of nausea that suddenly assaulted him, and waited for it to pass. When his stomach stopped doing a trapeze act in his throat, he took a few more hesitant sips of the blue drink. The liquid was cool and eased the dry ache in the back of his throat. It took several minutes to make it even half-way through the cup but it was more than enough for the time being. However, the last sip sent the juice down a little too fast and Sam began to cough, wet and ragged, his entire body shaking with the force of the coughs.

Dean abandoned the cup instantly and cradled the younger man against his chest. "Shh Sammy…you're alright…" He soothed, rubbing his brother's back with one hand and pressing the other one against the uninjured side of Sam's chest.

Sam continued to cough, his eyes squeezed shut tightly in pain as each one ripped through his chest violently. Everything hurt and it was hard to breathe; Sam began to panic.

Dean frowned, looking down at his gasping little brother. "Sammy…?" He could feel the younger man struggling to breathe, his chest shuddering spasmodically beneath his palm. "Shit!" In one smooth motion, Dean pulled Sam against his chest and held him tightly. "Breathe Sammy…Just breathe okay…?" He carded his fingers through the younger man's hair slowly, soothing him as best he could. "Slow, deep breaths Sam…just take it slow…"

Sam's fingers curled his brother's shirt into a weak knot, his fist tangled in the fabric as he struggled to get air into his burning lungs. Tears prickled behind his eyes and he squeezed his eyes shut, too weak to do much of anything else.

Dean noticed his brother's distress and hugged him a little closer, rocking slowly. "Sam…listen to my voice, okay?…You're going to be fine…" He untangled Sam's hand from his shirt and pressed it against his own chest, taking a slow, deep breath. "Breathe like me Sam…you can do it…just breathe like me…" Dean repeated this action a few times, making sure the movement was smooth and even. After a few minutes, Sam's hand relaxed against his chest and he was left breathless and exhausted against his brother, a thin layer of sweat breaking out across his forehead. His hand fell away limply and he leaned against Dean, drawing in hitched yet even breaths. However, the battle for consciousness was now lost he slumped against Dean's chest, eyes closing in exhaustion.

Feeling his little brother go limp in his arms, Dean quickly pressed his palm flat against the left side of Sam's chest, waiting for a second until he felt the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath his fingertips. He sighed in relief and fell back against the head board, content to simply lay there and feel Sam's heart beating for a minute.

"Jesus Sam…" He muttered, closing his eyes slowly as his own heart rate slowed down to a more normal pace. "You're going to be the death of me yet…"

With Bobby's help, he managed to get Sam tucked back into his original position and pulled the blankets up around him. He glanced at the half-empty paper cup and felt his eye narrow. Super juice no longer seemed like such an innocent term.

* * *

**Poor Sam...I'm still not done with him *sheepish grin* Not only that, I kinda have a thing for Sam without a shirt on so I'm going to prolong this moment for as long as possible ;P Hehe, see ya'll in the next chapter!!**


	15. Let Go

**Hello all!! Sorry it's taken me so long to update, end of the semester is always kind of crazy. I'm going to apologize for the tear-jerker moments in this chapter in advance. I recently lost a pet and so I'm a little more emotional than usual and it tends to affect my writing. Hopefully its alright though :D Hope you all enjoy it!!**

* * *

Sam moaned softly, his eyes squeezing shut a little more tightly in discomfort. The noise was soft, almost inaudible, but Dean was at his side in a split second. "Sammy…? Can you hear me kiddo…?"

The younger man didn't respond but the moans became a little more noticeable as the seconds ticked by. His shoulders arched slightly, pressing hard against the mattress as a shiver raced down the length of his spine. The blankets felt heavy and confining; suffocating.

Dean frowned, noticing the thin layer of sweat that had broken out across his brother's pale face. "Sammy…?" He reached forward and pressed his palm to Sam's forehead, hissing suddenly at the searing heat radiating from his skin. "Shit…" He breathed, a wave of dread sweeping through him. Sam was weak enough already, a fever was possibly the worst thing that could happen right now. "Bobby."

The older man looked up at the sound of his name and crossed the room in two quick strides. He dropped to his knees next to the bed, taking in Dean's concern, and brushed his thumb across Sam's cheek. "Damn Sam…" He whispered, rolling the edge of the blanket back just enough so he could see the bandages covering the younger man's chest. He gently peeled back one of the bandages and winced at the obvious swelling around the stitched injury. The wound looked raw and painful, the edges bright red beneath the stitches. Yellowish discharge stained the bandage and surrounding areas and there was very little doubt that it had become infected.

Another soft curse left the older man's mouth and he stood slowly. "I was afraid this would happen…" He said softly, crossing back over to his canvas bag and digging around in the top. After a few seconds, he retrieved a handful of bandages, some rubbing alcohol, and a small glass bottle and a sterilized package containing a syringe.

"What is that?" Dean asked, eyeing the bottle carefully.

"Penicillin." Bobby explained gently, doing his best to placate the frantic man. He ripped open the package and took out the prepared needle, tossing the trash into the top of the bag. Then carefully, with the precision that only comes from years of patching oneself up without the aid of a hospital, he drew the correct amount from the bottle and set it back on the table.

Bobby retrieved an alcohol wipe from the top of his bag and sat on the bed next to Sam, pulling up arm out from beneath the stiff blankets. He swabbed the inside of Sam's arm and pressed lightly against the skin until he found the vein. With smooth, steady hands, he inserted the needle into the younger man's arm and emptied the contents of the syringe into Sam's bloodstream.

The pinch of the needle was enough to jolt Sam into consciousness and he blinked slowly, his eyes glassy and unfocused due to the fever.

"Sammy…?" Dean grabbed his hand and clutched it tightly in his. The heat of Sam's feverish skin was uncomfortable but he didn't let go. "Sam, you okay…?" _Brilliant question, of course he's not okay…_

Sam didn't answer or he couldn't answer, Dean wasn't sure which; he just continued to stare blankly at the ceiling as if he were seeing something miles away.

"Sam." Dean tried again, forcing the name out a little more loudly than he'd intended. He knew he sounded angry and demanding but the fear and the silence were almost more than he could take.

"Dean, it's okay." Bobby reassured him, patting his arm gently. "It's just the fever…" He hoped he was right as he peeled away the bandages and tossed them into a nearby wastebasket. He poured some alcohol onto an unused washcloth on the bedside table and hesitated, knowing how much pain this would bring. It had to be done however or the infection would only get worse. Very gently, he pressed the washcloth to the raw wound, wincing at the sharp gasp from Sam.

The younger man tried to twist away from the pain, drawing his legs up to his chest in a vain attempt at protection. He groaned weakly, eyes rolling back slightly as wave after wave of agony coursed through him.

Dean slid on the bed next to him, pulling his younger brother into his arms and holding him tightly. "Shh Sammy…its okay…you're okay…" He whispered, pressing a kiss to his brother's temple as he held him. "I gotcha Sammy…"

Bobby repeated the action on the back of his shoulder and once again, Sam's body jerked spasmodically against the alcohol-soaked cloth. He grit his teeth sharply, his jaw clenching hard enough to pop loudly. His breathing came out in short, ragged pants and his chest heaved weakly as he fought against the pain. Dean continued to hold him tightly, shushing him and whispering words of reassurance as the wound was cleaned, knowing it wasn't helping no matter how much he wanted it to.

Bobby frowned sadly and dropped the washcloth into the pile with the discarded bandages. He could still feel the alarming heat rising from the younger man's skin and knew that if they didn't break the fever soon, Sam wouldn't stand a chance. "Dean." He said, drawing the other hunter from his concerned reverie. "I want you to go fill the bathtub with cold water and put Sam in there. I'm going to find some ice; we need to get his fever down." Without waiting, Bobby stood and made his way to the door, tucking the key into his back pocket and disappearing around the corner.

Dean nodded and gently laid his little brother back down before he jumped up and ran into the room's bathroom, turning on the cold water and dropping the stopper into the drain. He came back into the room a split second later and dropped down next to the bed. He pulled back the blankets slowly and wrestled with the buttons on Sam's jeans. The boxers could stay on but the jeans had to come off. He had just managed to pull them down enough to wiggle one of Sam's legs free when he heard his name.

"Dean…" Sam's eyes were open but he wasn't looking at his older brother, he was looking at something else entirely.

Dean stopped immediately, cupping his little brother's face gently. "Hey kiddo…you're going to be okay, alright…? I promise…" He looked at Sam carefully, realizing that the younger man wasn't seeing him at all. "Sammy…?"

"Dean…no…." Sam gasped weakly, his eyes fluttering a little as he struggled to remain conscious. He could hear them; the horrible snarls and growls that seemed to come from every corner of his mind. They were coming…they were coming to take him away again…Sam shook his head slowly, tears streaming down his face. "No…" He moaned miserably, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly with a sob. "Run…please…" He could still smell the blood, hear the crush of bone and cartilage under razor-sharp claws. Dean was going to die again… "Dean…no…"

The older man felt his heart break and tears prickled behind his eyes. "Its okay, Sammy. I'm right here…I won't let anything happen to you…" He shook his head in an attempt to clear the tears from his eyes. Sam wasn't seeing him because he was locked in a memory only he could see; one that was putting him on the verge of hysterics. He pulled him into his arms, offering what comfort he could and ran his fingers through Sam's hair. "I'm right here Sammy…stay with me, little brother…"

In one smooth motion, he tugged the other pants leg off his hallucinated little brother and scooped him into his arms, racing to the bathroom. Knowing full well that if he put Sam in the tub alone he would more than likely drown, Dean decided there was no other option so he slipped of his shoes and stepped into the cold water carefully. It made him shiver but he didn't care; all that mattered was the younger man hanging limply in his arms. Slowly, Dean managed to lowered both he and Sam into the water, shivering faintly as it soaked through his clothes.

The cold water shot a shiver down Sam's spine and he arched painfully, gripping the side of the tub tightly with one hand.

"Shh Sammy…" Dean whispered, leaning forward enough to turn off the water. He stroked his brother's hair softly, holding him tightly. "Its okay…I gotcha…"

For a few seconds, nothing was said, just the soft rasp of the younger man's breathing filled the tiny room. Dean shifted slightly, cupping the cold water in his hands and spreading it across Sam's chest. He could feel the younger man relax against him and he felt himself relax as well. "That's it Sammy…just take it easy, okay?" He squeezed Sam's uninjured arm gently. "I gotcha…"

Dean leaned back against the tub, staring up at the water-damaged ceiling. Sam was curled against his chest limply, breathing slowly as his body tried to get used to the water. Keeping one hand carding through his hair and the other wrapped around his back to prevent him from slipping backward, Dean held him close, providing what comfort he could.

"You gotta get better for me Sammy…" Dean started, staring at the showerhead. "You know why?" He waited for a second even though he didn't really expect and answer. "Because I think when we kill Lilith we're going to tap dance over her grave and I need you to do that with me." He smiled faintly at the stupid joke. "It would look pretty stupid if only one of us were to do it." He paused for another second, listening to the slow breathing next to him. "That or we could shoot off fireworks using her head as a stand…I think it would be cool either way…"

"Dean…"

Dean stopped and looked down, hearing Sam mumble something else but it was too soft to hear. "What's wrong Sammy…?

"Let go…"

Thinking he was holding on too tightly, Dean released his hold on his younger brother and looked down. "God, I'm sorry Sam…I didn't realize I was-"

"Please…just let go…"

The older man froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins. Sam wasn't talking about the hold…he was talking about- "I'm sorry Sammy…but I can't do that…"

"Please…" Sam's voice was barely more than a whisper, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. "Just let me go…You don't… have to hold on anymore…"

Dean swallowed hard, the lump in his throat feeling like it was the size of a baseball. "No Sam…You're going to be fine, okay? You know why? Because I need you Sammy… God, I need you so much…I can't do this alone…"

Sam smiled sadly and shook his head. "They want me…just me…" A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye and his voice wavered slightly. "You don't… have to go back….I won't let you…"

Dean couldn't hold his own tears back anymore and they slipped down his face without warning. "No Sam…We're in this together or not at all…I'm the one whose supposed to protect you. I'm supposed to keep you safe…not the other way around…" More tears fell and Dean felt his voice crack. "Jesus Sam…"

The younger man shook his head weakly. "Its okay…Dad said its okay…"

Dean froze again but this time it wasn't an icy tremor that paralyzed him, it was anger. He clenched his fist tightly at his side and shook his head sharply. "No, you know what Sam? It's not okay!" the words came out short and clipped but he couldn't help it. "I don't care what "Dad" says, its not okay because you're not allowed to die until I say so, you got it? You are not giving up on me now, Sam Winchester. Do you understand me?" It was the best I'm-the-boss-in-this-situation-and-you-have-no-say-in-the-matter voice he could muster without breaking again and he set his jaw tightly.

Sam closed his eyes tightly, tears streaming down his face. "Dean…" He whispered softly before he slipped unconscious once more.

Dean felt him go limp in his arms and inhaled sharply, moving his hand from Sam's hair and pressing his fingers to his throat. The pulse was much too fast, the rhythm erratic and bounding, but it showed no signs of stopping anytime soon and Dean had no intention of letting that happen. "I'm so sorry Sam…" He whispered, unable to hold back the tears again. "But I'm not letting you go that easily…if we go, we're going down fighting."

The front door opened and Bobby appeared a few seconds later, two buckets full of ice tucked under his arms. He didn't think twice as he dumped them into the already cold water trying to avoid Dean and Sam as much as possible. When both buckets were empty, he dropped down onto the lid of the toilet and sat still, watching the younger men carefully. He sighed heavily as he saw Dean struggling to maintain his composure and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It'll be okay, son…" He whispered, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "Everything will be okay…"

Dean said nothing but nodded slightly. He moved his free hand down and pressed his fingers to the inside of Sam's wrist so he could monitor his pulse. Finally, after a few minutes, he blinked and looked at Bobby. "I'm not letting him die again, Bobby…" He hissed through clenched teeth, his struggle to remain the strong, stoic older brother slowly breaking down. "Either we die together or not at all…"

Bobby had absolutely no doubt in his mind that Dean meant that.

* * *

**Yay!! Poor Dean, he'd almost at his breaking point and Bobby's trying soo hard to keep everything together O.o Hope you all liked it!! See you in the next chapter!! :D**


	16. Your Guardian Angel

**Hello all!! Good Lord, I am so sorry this took me so long to updat ebut I've been battling with this chapter all week. Everytime I got about halfway through it, I would change my mind and earse everything. This happened about four times -.-; I'm really sorry for the long wait but this is long chapter so hopefully it makes up for it :D**

**The lyrics are propery to Red Jumpsuit Apparatus so I have no claims to them. Its an incredibly beautiful song though check it out if you've never heard it!! Loves!!**

**

* * *

**

The fever broke a little after 3 am, the intense heat giving way to small, weak shivers that continued to course through Sam's body. With Bobby's help, Dean managed to gather his younger brother out of the bathtub and carry him back into the bedroom, depositing him gently on one of the beds. He stripped Sam of his wet boxers, mumbling a quiet apology with a watery smirk at his nude brother as he grabbed a dry pair from the younger man's bag. He re-dressed Sam and tucked him back under the thick blankets, pulling them up to his chin and pulling up a chair next to the bed.

The vigil began once more; long, silent pauses filled with nothing but the sound of Sam's still somewhat hitched breathing. The clock in the room was broken so there was really no telling what time it was; Bobby had been going off a cell phone that had died a few minutes before. It was still dark outside, the faint sound of traffic passing by on the highway echoing through the tiny room occasionally. The air conditioner switched on, a low, metallic hum filling the room and rattling the ancient unit. Everything felt still, almost as if time had stopped in the room.

"Dean."

The man in question blinked slowly, barely registering that his name had been said. He looked over to Bobby and quirked an eyebrow as the older man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a few crumpled $20 bills.

"Why don't you run to the diner next door and see if you can get us something to eat?" Bobby laughed softly, the sound dry and somewhat forced in the back of his throat. "Lord knows neither of us have had a decent meal in about two days and it won't help Sam at all if you get yourself sick."

It took a minute before Dean was able to respond. He had been so absorbed in watching over Sam, so wrapped in his own thoughts that he had to take a second to work everything out in his head. Finally, he shook his head slowly and looked back at the bed. "No, Bobby. I need to stay here. If Sam-"

"Dean." Bobby's voice was soft and fatherly and it also held no room for argument. "Sam will be fine; the fever is gone and he's sleeping right now. I'm going to stay here and watch him in case anything happens and if it does, you will be the first person I tell." He knew Dean was reluctant to leave Sam, it was written all across his face and showed in his body language; the tense, on-the-edge-of-your-seat look he usually got when Sam was involved. But he also knew that if Dean didn't get out of the room, at least for five minutes to get some fresh air, he would break down completely. Seeing the hesitation still lingering on the younger hunter's features, Bobby nodded toward the door. "Go on son." He said gently, pressing the money into Dean's hand. "You can come right back, I promise."

With that last bit of reassurance, Dean finally managed a weak nod. He stood slowly, his back stiff from the various positions he'd found himself in over the evening, and rummaged around through his own bag to find some dry clothes. He slipped on a threadbare t-shirt and jeans and walked to the door, pausing just before his hand closed around the knob. "If he-"

Bobby nodded, cutting him off mid-sentence. "If he wakes up or if anything happens, I'll come get you." He offered Dean a smile, a real smile, and waited patiently until he had opened the door and stepped outside. He heard the slow, trudging footsteps scuff across the gravel parking lot and fade off as they got further from the door.

With a tired sigh, Bobby stood slowly and walked over to the chair Dean had been sitting in. He sat down next to the bed and leaned against the back, staring at the sleeping young man in front of him. A faint smile crossed his lips as he remembered several of the times both Sam and Dean had added a few grey hairs to their father's head. The boys had been a handful growing up, that was certain, but they looked after one another and managed to keep a good balance between themselves. He hated the rift that had formed between the boys over the past few months and what was worse was that there was very little he could do to help them fix it. One thing about the Winchesters was that they were stubborn and once one of them had set his mind on something it would take hell or high water to change that. Still, they needed each other even if it may be the death of both of them.

Bobby sighed again and rested his hand over Sam's chest, feeling the slow, occasional hitch of his breathing. "What am I going to do with you boys?" He asked to no one in particular, gazing at the bedspread. He shook his head slowly and smiled, leaning back against the chair.

**OOOOO**

The diner smelled the way all diners do: cigarette smoke mixed with coffee that had probably been sitting in the pot a few hours too long. Rows of tables lined the walls and stood alone in the middle of the restaurant, a few random chairs scattered across the floor. Only a few tired-looking men occupied the tables, most looked like truck drivers and there was one man who looked like he had just come from the bar. It was nearly dead due to the late hour but the cook was working full speed behind the ordering window and a short middle aged woman with frosted blond hair piled on top of her head was flitting in between the tables with a coffee pot. She noticed Dean as he walked in and gave him a warm, inviting smile. "Hey there, sweetie." She called across the empty floor, setting the half-full coffee pot on a vacant table and walking over to him. "Just one tonight?"

Dean nodded hesitantly, not liking the term 'just one' but letting it go. He offered her a watery version of his trademark smile and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I was actually trying to get food to go. Got a buddy passed out in the room, you know?" He said, nodding toward the bar outside with a shrug of his shoulder.

The waitress smiled and nodded. "I hear ya." She grabbed a plastic menu from behind the register and handed it to him. "Just let me know when you're ready, alright hon?" She sounded like everyone's aunt and looked like a Sunday school teacher and Dean actually found himself smiling for real for the first time in he didn't know how long.

He slid into an empty booth near the door and looked through the menu, scanning over the classic diner food and coming to a decision a few seconds later. The waitress re-appeared a few seconds later with a tiny notepad and waited patiently while he ordered. He got two burgers, easy enough, but had to stop himself from telling her to cut the tomatoes from one. He remembered suddenly that he was ordering for Bobby, not Sam, and the heavy dread returned all at once. Sam had always had a thing about tomatoes, even when he was little, and would just about gag if they even touched his food. He liked ketchup though, so that was weird, but tomatoes were out. Once he had finished his order, the waitress smiled and placed a cup of coffee in front of him, saying he looked like he needed it. Dean thanked her politely and handed her two of the twenties, watching as she walked to the back to deliver the order to the cook.

The coffee tasted like little more than hot water but it was caffeinated and for now that's all that mattered. Dean stared into the inky blackness of the cup, watching the steam rise and wisp around the edges. He was tired, more tired than he could ever remember, but he wasn't about to go to sleep yet. Not until he was sure Sam was alright.

Before he knew it, the waitress had returned with his change and a small plastic bag holding two large Styrofoam containers along with a few smaller ones. He quirked an eyebrow at the smaller containers and the waitress smiled, explaining that she had included some cobbler and pie in the order (also because he looked like he needed it). Dean sifted through the change to pay for the extras but the woman shook her head and smiled.

"It's on the house, hon." She squeezed his shoulder gently and Dean suddenly remembered his mother, something that hadn't happened in years. A wave of emotion swept through him and the tears were falling before he knew it. The waitress simply smiled and pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back lightly. "Go on now," She whispered in his ear and it was a voice he hadn't heard since he was four years old. "Go take care of your brother."

Dean blinked and opened his eyes, looking around in confusion. The waitress was nowhere in sight, only a few tired old men and a cook standing behind a counter. The bag was still in one hand, clenched tightly in his fist, and the tears were still streaming down his face. He could smell his mother's perfume.

**OOOOO**

The walk back to the hotel was surreal, almost like a dream that's hard to differentiate from reality. Dean felt lighter, as if part of the weight of the world had been removed from his shoulders. He just wished that feeling could last a bit longer.

The room was cool and dark when he entered. Bobby had turned off the lamp over Sam's bed and was leaned back in the chair, dividing his attention between the unconscious young man and the muted news on the television. He sat up a little straighter as Dean walked in and smiled. "Feeling any better?"

_Better is such a relative term_, Dean thought but he nodded anyway. "Yeah, actually I am." He smiled back and set the food on the table near the window. He wanted to tell Bobby about the waitress in the diner but he was afraid if he said it out loud, it would undo whatever spell she had weaved on him. He wanted to hold on to that for just a little while longer.

The two ate in silence, watching the news half-heartedly. Considering the general public is only vaguely aware of the paranormal occurrences that take place all over the world, most hunters have to keep a sharp eye on the local and national news channels in order to pick up anything out of the norm. Sure, word travels in this line of work but there are the occasional cases that can be gathered from the news. So far there was nothing new, just a bunch of the political and economic turmoil that always seemed to be going on.

Once they were done with their food, Bobby shoved the empty containers into the plastic bag and set the smaller ones on the table for later. He leaned back in the chair, watching the news through heavy lids and trying desperately to stay awake. It wasn't working.

"Bobby, you can go to sleep if you want." Dean chuckled softly, noticing the older man's struggle.

Bobby sat up a little straighter as if to argue the point but sighed. "Ah hell…" He yawned and shook his head. He glanced to Sam and then back at Dean. "You wake me up if anything happens, you understand?"

Dean nodded and walked back over to his original seat, sinking down next to the bed and propping his chin in his hands. Within a few seconds, Bobby was snoring softly and the room was quiet once again and Dean was left with his thoughts. He wasn't sure what to make of the mysterious waitress; could she have been an angel or simply someone who knew the plight of man with a gravely injured family member? Whatever the reason, he could still remember his mother's voice and the soft, lingering smell of honeysuckle that always clung to her skin.

With a soft sigh, Dean reached beneath the blankets and pulled out one of Sam's hands, gripping it gently in his own. "You gotta pull through this Sammy," He whispered, resting his cheek against his sibling's hand. "I can't do this without you, man."

He began humming softly, something else he hadn't done in a long time, but it was an old melody; a song he'd heard countless times when he was little. Sam had only gotten to hear it a few times when he was little but it was a lullaby their mother had made up for them. She would sing it every night before Dean fell asleep and it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard in his life. The words were a little hazy but he remembered the voice and that was all that mattered.

_When I see your smile,_

_Tears run down my face I can't replace._

_And now that I'm strong I have figured out,_

_How this world turns cold and it breaks through my soul._

_And I know I'll find deep inside me I can be the one._

The words came more easily than he anticipated and he found it was easier to remember them when he was singing to Sam. Maybe their mother could remember all the lyrics because she was singing directly to them when she had made it up.

_I will never let you fall, I'll stand up with you forever._

_I'll be there for your through it all,_

_Even if saving you send me to Heaven._

It didn't matter what the future held; Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, it didn't matter. Dean was going to save Sam and Sam was going to save Dean. That was the way it had always been and he would accept no other alternative. 'Either we go together or not at all.'

_It's okay. It's okay. It's okay._

_Seasons are changing and waves are crashing_

_And stars are falling all for us._

_Days grow longer and nights grow shorter_

_I can show you, I'll be the one._

No one had ever said it was going to be easy. Granted, it didn't have to be ridiculously difficult either like most of their lives had been, but the fact was that Dean wasn't going to let things end with a few harsh words and angry taunts. Not after this; not after everything else that had happened.

_I will never let you fall, I'll stand up with you forever._

_I'll be there for your through it all,_

_Even if saving you send me to Heaven._

_Because you're my, you're my, my true love,_

_My whole heart, please don't throw that away._

After the incident with the Siren, Dean wanted nothing more than to leave his brother in some no name town and let him fight his own way. Sam was stubborn, just like he was, but what scared Dean the most was that Sam didn't need him anymore. Or at least he didn't act like it. The months Dean had been in Hell had been literal torture but Sam had been going through his own hell up here as well. He learned to adapt, how to be strong, how to be the perfect hunter, and after months of thinking he would be alone forever, it was a hard habit to break. But, selfish as it may be, Dean still wanted Sam to look up to him, to come to him for help, to be his little brother again.

_Your Guardian Angel._

_Please don't walk away,_

_And please tell me you'll stay_

He couldn't keep Sam from moving out nor could he keep him from going off to college even though his ever instinct wanted to insist that Sam stay where he could see him. In their lives, they had seen some truly awful things and the idea of his baby brother being several states away with little help in the surrounding area made Dean literally sick to his stomach. And then, after that first hunt, just when everything seemed back to normal, Jessica died and Sam was lost again. Dean wanted to beg him to stay, to continue on with him, but he knew it wasn't right. Just like when he'd begged him to hang on after Jake had stabbed him. Sam, being the stubborn ass that he was, was going to do whatever the hell he felt like even if it meant riding along with his older brother in a profession he never wanted or dying in said brother's arms in a God forsaken ghost town two years earlier.

Dean felt the words falter a little and he swallowed hard, closing his eyes slowly. "Sammy…" He whispered, not trusting his voice to go any higher. "I know I've asked a lot of you in the past…things you never wanted to do, never wanted to see…" Dean swallowed again, forcing down the bile in the back of his throat. "But listen man, if you just can't hang on any more, if you really and truly can't…" He didn't want to say it, didn't want to hear the words out loud. "If you want me to let go…then I will Sam. I will, but…God, just fight a little longer Sammy, okay? Please little brother, this will be the last thing I ever ask of you, I swear. Please Sammy…just hang on, just a little longer, okay?" The tears prickled behind his eyes again but refused to fall.

_Use me as you will,_

_Pull my strings just for a thrill._

_And I know I'll be okay_

_Though my skies are turning grey._

_I will never let you fall, I'll stand up with you forever._

_I'll be there for your through it all,_

_Even if saving you send me to Heaven._

In the silence of the room, as much as Dean didn't want to believe it possible, Sam weakly squeezed his hand. With a smile and tears he couldn't hold back anymore, Dean squeezed back and leaned over the bed, kissing his brother's forehead softly. "That's my boy Sammy." He whispered quietly, brushing the hair away from Sam's face. "We'll get through this, I swear."

* * *

**Hehe, I felt sappy :D Hope you liked it!!**


	17. Say My Name

**Yay!! Sam's awake!! Sorry for the delay but I really hope you like it!! Tooth-rotting sweetness to come!! :D**

* * *

Sam blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting blurrily to the ceiling up above. It took a few minutes for him to register where he was and that he was lying flat on his back in an unfamiliar bed. _The hotel. Right…_He blinked again, taking in a slow breath as he did. This usually happened when he first woke up; the surge of panic, the feeling of being completely and utterly lost. It seemed to happen a lot more this past year and it never got easier.

The pain began to register a few seconds later, a dull ache that radiated from the center of his body outward. His limbs felt stiff and heavy from being in the same position for too long and his shoulder throbbed angrily with each breath. Another wave of confusion swept through him. _Okay, shoulder hurts like hell…what the-? Oh…_ The rest came flooding back to him in a flurry of snapshot memories: The argument with Dean, the gunshot, Gordon's sadistic promises, another shot, Dean's face…Dean's eyes…Dean's voice begging him to hang on…Sam blinked again, suddenly feeling the urge to sit up. He needed to get up and find his brother.

Something had his uninjured hand (_What happened to the other one-?…Oh…_) in a light grip and he looked over to see the man in question slumped in a chair that had been pulled up next to the bed. Dean's fingers were intertwined with Sam's, his hold loose and relaxed in the throws of sleep, and the dark circles beneath his eyes made him look like he hadn't slept in days. His chin was resting against his chest, eyes closed lightly, and his breathing was deep and even. Sam suddenly wondered how long he had been there next to him. He could vaguely remember words, his brother's face above his, but it was all hazy and flitted just out of reach from his memory.

Using what little strength Sam found he possessed, he pulled himself upright just enough to rest his back against the headboard of the bed. The movement sent a shockwave throughout his body and he winced, letting out a shaky breath as he leaned back. The groaned escaped his mouth before he could stop it and his older brother's eyes snapped open instantly.

"Oh my God…! Sam!" Dean exclaimed, sitting up quickly and lopping an arm around the younger man's back. "You're awake!" The relief nearly overwhelmed him and Sam could hear his brother's voice crack as he spoke. Almost instantly, Sam was engulfed in the biggest hug Dean had ever given him in his life. Sam closed his eyes, finding that leaning into the hug was pretty much the only thing he could do at the moment, and simply enjoyed the moment. Neither man said anything for several minutes; there was nothing to say right then, just a moment between two brothers who hadn't known the word 'peace' in years.

Finally, after a few more minutes of silence, Dean pulled away and looked his little brother squarely in the eye. "Jesus, Sam…I was so worried about you…"

"Dean…" Sam said softly, his voice coming out as a raspy whisper.

"What were you thinking, huh?! Wandering around alone?! You know better Sam!" Dean scolded, putting forth his best I-know-I'm-not-our-father-but-I'm-still-the-boss-of-you voice.

"Dean…" Sam tried again, wincing just enough so that it wasn't noticeable. Something had occurred to him upon sitting up.

"Don't you ever do that again, Sam! Do you understand?! I will beat you to death with a toaster if you ever do anything that stupid again!"

"Dean…" It was as forced as he could make it and Sam really hoped his brother would stop the tirade long enough to listen to him.

"What?"

"Have to pee…" Sitting straight up after lying down for so long had caused all the fluid Sam consumed in the past however long to go straight down and it was now to the point of being very uncomfortable.

Dean's eyes widened instantly and he backed off. "Oh God…sorry man…" He said, tossing the blankets away from his brother's body and lopping an arm around his shoulders. Slowly, making sure Sam wouldn't topple over as soon as he was upright, Dean helped his brother stand and dragged him to the bathroom.

The blood-soaked washcloths and bloody clothes Sam had been wearing had all been tossed in the shower by Bobby after they'd gotten Sam out of the tub and off-white tub floor was now streaked with varying shades of red. Worrying it may make Sam nauseous to the see the bloody articles, Dean threw the shower curtain closed once they entered, hoping he'd been in time. Sam apparently either didn't notice the mess or didn't care because he simply offered Dean a pleading look once they got to the toilet.

"Dean…"

The older man sighed and looked to the door. "Look man, I don't like this situation anymore than you do but if you fall it'll make things a lot worse."

Sam smiled weakly and shook his head. "Dean, I've been using the bathroom by myself for longer than I can remember. I should be alright for a few minutes alone." Even as he spoke, Sam had to stop and take a breath, the energy it took to be both upright and speaking causing him to become winded.

Dean looked at him doubtfully for a few seconds and finally let out a sigh. If he knew anything about his little brother, it was that Sam was unbelievably modest and would usually rather lock himself in a closet than change clothes in front of anyone. He would flip if he figured out Dean had dressed him earlier, the very issue of being in nothing but boxers right now was enough to start a privacy argument. "Fine…but if you even think you feel dizzy or anything, let me know." With Sam's nod of agreement, Dean turned his back to him and faced the wall; he wasn't about to leave the room completely, no matter how uncomfortable it made the two of them.

After a few moment, the toilet flushed and the sink was turned on. Sam finished washing his hands, his breathing becoming a little more labored with even the smallest movements. He located an unused towel and dried his hands, gripping the sink weakly with his uninjured hand and turning to face his brother. "Done." He said, swaying and stumbling into his older brother's waiting arms.

Dean had been expecting that and stepped forward quickly when he saw the little color he'd regained drain from Sam's face. He caught the younger man gently, holding him for a second so that the dizziness subsided. "Come on man," He said after a few minutes, rubbing Sam's back gently and wrapping his arm around his shoulder again. "Let's get you back to bed, okay?"

Dean half-dragged, half-carried Sam back into the room and made his way to the bed. They ad just about reached the mattress when Sam stumbled and Dean tightened his grip to keep him from falling. The catch however caused the bandages on the back of Sam's shoulder to press painfully into the wound and he gasped, collapsing onto the bed in agony. Dean's eyes widened and he fell to his knees beside his brother, cradling Sam's face in his hands. "Jesus…I'm so sorry Sammy…God…I'm so so sorry…" He helped Sam lay back down and let him grip his hand until the pain died away. "I'm so sorry Sammy…" He mumbled again, guilt wracking through him relentlessly.

Sam managed to control his breathing after a few seconds and blinked up at the ceiling, his face pale and covered in a light layer of sweat. "Say it again…" He whispered after a second, his grip loosening a little on his brother's hand.

"What?" Dean asked, confused by the question.

"Please…say it again…"

His stomach dropped a little and Dean looked down. "I'm sorry…"

"No…" Sam shook his head slowly. "Not that…my name." He looked at his brother, his hazel eyes wide and pleading. "Say my name…"

Dean blinked at the request. "Sammy…?"

Sam closed his eyes, a small, sad smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. "You haven't called me that in a long time…" He whispered, unable to keep the tears from prickling behind his eyes.

Dean returned the same sad smile and nodded, stroking a hand through Sam's hair. "I know, Sam…" He whispered, wishing the past year would disappear entirely.

"Dean…I'm sorry man…I'm sorry about the lies and the siren and-"

The older man shook his head, effectively cutting off Sam's inevitably ramble. "No Sammy, I'm sorry. I said some really awful things to you, things that I would never **ever** mean, and I wish I could take them back. I want you to know that I have never and will never regret making that deal. **Never**." Apologizing had always been kind of a feat for Dean to begin with but he really didn't care right now. "Sam, you're the only thing I have left, the only thing I've done right in this world, and I can't lose you again. This whole seals of Hell, demon blood, Apocalypse bullshit has me really freaked out man, I won't lie, but I can't do it without you Sammy." Dean looked the younger man in the eye, holding his gaze steadily. "I know I screwed up Sam, I know I said some unforgivable things, but I need you. I need you Sammy…I need my baby brother back…" Dean paused, clearing his throat a little as the emotions threatened to overwhelm him again. "So lets do what we do best, okay? Lets kick ass and take as many names as we possibly can the way we always do: Winchester style."

Sam smiled faintly, tears streaming down his face, and nodded. "Sounds like a plan to me." He laughed weakly, wincing as the pain throbbed in his shoulder again.

Dean smiled back and leaned down, gathering Sam in his arms and hugging him tightly. "Those demons will never know what hit them." He whispered, smiling a little as Sam laughed against his shoulder.

"And I thought you hated chick flick moments." The younger man teased, grinning when Dean ruffled his hair.

"Shut up, bitch."

"Jerk."

With another smile, Dean sat back a little. "Good, now scoot your ass over. I'm tired of sleeping in the chair." He didn't actually want Sam to move so instead he stepping around to the other side of the bed and sat down next to him. Helping his brother cover up with the blankets, Dean shot him a look. "Cuddle with me and you die."

Sam laughed softly and nodded. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Dean nodded back. "Good, just making sure that knock to the head didn't scramble anything loose up there." He said, nodding to the bandaged cut behind Sam's ear. He settle back against the pillow and crossed his arms over his chest, relaxing for the first time in two days. Neither brother said anything as Dean carefully reached beneath the blankets and grasped Sam's hand gently. Likewise, neither had anything to say when Sam squeezed back softly. They both fell asleep, content with the knowledge that even though the real battle still awaited them, they would face it together as brothers.

Across the room, still propped in the chair he'd chosen for his for the evening, Bobby smiled faintly. _Bout damn time…_

**Aww, kinda!! They made up!! Yay!! Had I known everything that was going to hapopen after that episode I would have included it but sadly I'm not psychic lol. I didn know Ruby was bad news though -.-; Demon bitch...Anyway, the last chapter is up next!! Hope to see you there!!**

* * *


	18. Epilogue: Together

**Yay!! Final Chapter!! Thank you all soo much for keeping up with me through this story, your reviews and comments are so encouraging!! Thanks for all the support guys, really!! :D**

* * *

The cemetery seemed very peaceful this time of day; a late afternoon sun scattered light through the trees overhead and a few birds twittered and chirped in sing-song melodies on the overhanging branches. A tall, red brick church stood a few yards away, the stained glass windows reflecting the sunlight brilliantly toward the street. Quietly, the bells began to toll in four peals of clear sound that echoed around the quiet plot behind it. A soft breeze blew the smell of pine and lilies across the headstones; it was warm, a nice day to be outside.

Sam stood silently, a bouquet of roses gripped loosely in his left hand. It was hard to hold onto something when your hand is wrapped in a cast up to your forearm, but considering the other arm was suspended in a sling, it was really his only option. The bullet wound had earned him a two day stay in a hospital the next county over and a few hard to answer questions from the local authorities. Sam didn't remember a lot of what had happened after being shot but Dean was willing to step in to fill in the details. In the end it became a hunting accident (it was somewhat true) and they were both let off the hook. However, being 'let off the hook' didn't exclude a rigorous bitch-fest from Dean and the threat that he would beat Sam completely senseless if he ever did anything that stupid again. The anger was still missing from his voice. Leslie Foster's grave was still completely covered with flowers and wreaths, handwritten notes and pictures of her and her family and friends picketed on tiny metal posts. The headstone was a pale grey granite that glittered slightly in the afternoon sun, a picture of Leslie smiling brightly out from the center. She had been a beautiful girl, only a few years older than Sam, and it seemed her death had affected everyone in the town and even some from the surrounding areas. Sam felt yet another pang of guilt twist in his stomach.

Carefully, and much more slowly than he was used to, Sam knelt down and rested his full weight on his knees. His shoulder ached faintly as he leaned forward but he ignored it. As it happened so many times when they failed during a mission, Sam felt the familiar doubt begin to rise in his chest. Why did this happen to a girl like her, a girl who hadn't done a single thing wrong? Why was there so much evil in the world that liked to prey on innocence like Leslie, or Jessica, or his own mother? Sam frowned and shook his head, fighting the urge to punch the ground. It wouldn't help his injured hand at all and it certainly wouldn't be appropriate in a church yard but it would make him feel better.

What if, even after everything they did, everything they tried to prevent, Lilith won and Lucifer managed to rise from the depths? What if their entire life's mission was in vain and in the end they failed, dooming the earth to years of death and torture? Sam hated to think about that, he hated thinking how powerless they were against an evil so incredibly massive, but in the quiet hours, when there was nothing but bird song and church bells, the doubt was hard to keep away. He had failed to protect Jessica, failed to protect his father, failed to save Dean from a surprisingly short yet unbelievably long trip to Hell…did this mean he was destined to fail in his most important task as well?

The crunch of boots through the grass behind him pulled him out of his reverie. "You okay?" Dean asked, standing a few feet away in case his brother needed some space.

It took a minute before Sam could answer. He shook his head slowly and looked back at the headstone, the final reminder of a life he had failed to save. "She shouldn't have died Dean…" Sam mumbled after a few minutes, still staring blankly at the face smiling out at him. "She didn't deserve this…"

The older man moved a little closer and ran a hand through his short hair. He knew Sam felt guilt, it was obvious in the way he spoke and the way he held himself in front of the young woman's grave; stiff, almost afraid. Dean had realized long ago that sometimes not everyone could be saved. It was hard at first and it still made him angry as hell when it did happen, but he had learned to accept it as part of the job. But Sam…Sam was a different story. He took it personally and he blamed himself when the inevitable couldn't be prevented. Honestly, there was nothing that could have been done in this situation; neither brother knew Gordon was still alive and yes, it was a mistake, but one they didn't realize until it was too late. With a soft sigh, Dean walked over and placed a comforting hand on his brother's uninjured shoulder. "No Sam," He began quietly, looking down at the headstone. "She didn't deserve this. She was an innocent girl who got caught up in something that never should have happened."

He waited for a response but Sam only nodded glumly. "But that's why we're here." Dean continued, crouching down so he was eye level with his little brother. "We're going to make sure to stop all of this," He indicated the road and land that stretched for miles in all directions. "We're going to stop it so that things like Lilith and Gordon and all those other sonsabitches can never hurt anyone like her again." Sam looked up at him hopefully then, his hazel eyes still a little glassy from the events of the past few days. Dean smiled and rested his forehead against his younger brother's, closing his eyes for a second. "We're **going** to do this Sammy, you and me. Together."

The younger man smiled half-heartedly and nodded. "Together."

Dean nodded in return and stood, offering his hand to Sam. "Come on, man. Let's go do what we do best."

Sam smiled again and took the offered hand, standing slowly. As long as they were together, nothing seemed too impossible.

Dean waited for a second before letting go of Sam's hand, watching to make sure he wasn't about to fall. "You okay?" When the younger man nodded, Dean released his grip and stepped back. "Good, can't have you fainting on me again." He said with a wink, walking back in the direction of the car. Sam smirked and rolled his eyes, following along behind his brother.

"Hey Dean, can I ask you something?"

"Sure man, what's up?"

"Can we please listen to something other than Led Zeppelin on the way back? I've heard that tape so many time's I can quote it."

"No way Sammy." Dean laughed as he slid into the front seat, jingling the keys in his hand. "Driver gets to pick the music and since you're pretty useless with both arms for a while, I guess I'm driving." He winked and started the car, cranking the volume up as a particular loud guitar rift broke the silence of the church yard.

"Ugh…"Sam groaned dramatically, carefully falling into the seat and shifting until he was a comfortable. "Jerk…"

"Bitch." Dean smirked and shifted, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the quiet road. The future wasn't certain, nor was it going to be easy, but as long as they had each other, Dean knew they would be alright.

* * *

**So there you have it!! Hope you all enjoyed the ride becuase I certainly enjoyed writing it!! :D I promise to write another story soon and have been thinking about testing my skills in the Star Trek 2009 fandom (I'm a nerd I know lol) so if you're interested feel free to check it out!! Thanks again for everything!!**

**-Layla :D**


End file.
